


Seeing Double

by sku7314977



Series: Brothers [1]
Category: Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Don't piss off Hannibal Lecter, Eventual Stockholm Syndrome, M/M, Nigel loves Will, Non-Consensual Drug Use, OC characters for plot purposes and to kill for the story, Porn, Possessive Hannibal, Possessive Nigel, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Someone Help Will Graham, Unhealthy Relationships, fluffy Hannigram moments, graphic murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 76,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1585196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/pseuds/sku7314977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When bodies start turning up all over Bucharest in a series of violent and gruesome displays an old friend of Jack's calls in a favor to borrow the FBI agents best profiler. A less than pleased Will Graham is soon shipped off to Bucharest in the hopes of helping local Police track down the killer bloodying Romanians streets with a litter of corpses.</p><p>While there Will stumbles across a rather unexpected surprise when he meets Hannibal's previously unmentioned twin; a man who's design Will is chasing and who has no intention of letting him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, this story is going to be one big unhealthy relationship~<3
> 
> With that said please enjoy!
> 
> I own nothing
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

“Maybe now we can reach some agreement,” Nigel smiled, it was twisted and wrong and nothing meant to be so cheery with that much blood sprayed across his retro bowler shirt. “Now that you have a better understanding of the position I seem to find myself in.”

The man in question groaned, choking on his own blood and vomit as he coughed to breath within the plastic bag gripped tight around his head. Nigel gave that bag another twist, pulling it tighter to drag the gasping man to his feet. “I’ve given you more than enough warning to get the fuck out of Bucharest Charlie and I’ve more than made myself fucking clear on the topic of my darling Gabi. I’m afraid I simply can’t find it within myself to forgive your trespasses any longer.” he shrugged, lightly tapping the barrel of his tokarev TTC semi auto to the side of the gasping man’s face, “It’s time I took my dues from that squeaking cunt of yours.”

“Le-ave Gabi alone, y-you greasy f-uck…” The man with his head in a bag wheezed, fingers slipping as they gripped the hand that held him so tight by the plastic around his neck.

The bad man tsked shaking his head as he pushed Charlie back into a hole, one freshly dug by the one spitting blood and vomit with a gun to his head and the promise of Gabi’s freedom from Nigel.

“Charlie my boy, you keep forgetting one essential fact.” He stepped away from the hole, back and out of sight to leave Charlie with the sound of a car door and a voice he hadn’t wanted to hear.

“Nigel,” Gabi gasped her face streaked with tears as her husband carried her struggling form into view, hands fastened behind her back and ankles tied to keep the beautiful woman still. “Nigel please what are you doing?”

He held her close, easing her to her feet to ignore the groans of protest sounding from behind as he helped the woman of his desires keep her balance. “Gabi is my wife,” He smiled with a gentle voice meant all for her, combing back a lock of soft copper colored hair to grip the silky tresses by their root when she jerked to pull away, “until fucking death do us fucking part.” Crushing her lips in a bruising kiss he cupped the smooth curve of her angel ass, squeezing the familiar mound before pushing her back into the hole with a rough shove to land on top of Charlie.

Licking his lips as though cleaning them of her taste he aimed the tokarev, heaving a sigh as he watched the pair struggle, “My darling Gabi, I hope that when next we meet you’ll have learned a little better commitment,” he ignored her screams, firing a shot to take the beautiful woman between the eyes before turning his sights to Charlie, “and you Charlie, I warned you boy, that everything could turn to blood in the blink of an eye.” He popped the clip, reloading it with a fresh one and drawing the barrel, an action done solely for show, “ Limbo ends here.” His smiled only grew as he watched frightened eyes widen as they stared down the barrel of a gun.

Nigel was death and this crusted piece of piss had just bought a ticket to Charon’s ferry ride.

OoOoO

Still riding the thrill of a day made bloody with broken bones and spraying blood Nigel entered the beautiful condo of his Bucharest home with a bottle of single malt scotch in one hand and a fist full of mail in the other, kicked the door shut behind him before he toed off his shoes and walked the short distance from his entrance to his kitchen.

The bottle of scotch, a gift from his good friend Darko to help him through his time of grieving, Nigel deposited on the counter grabbing a glass from the cupboard and a set of onyx whiskey rocks from the freezer. He poured himself two fingers of the amber liquid and tossed it back before turning his attention to flicking though a small pile of bills at hand, reading the name of the debtors he dropped the envelops onto the counter one by one for later payment, even big fish had to pay to keep the water running.

He paused as he came to one envelope different from the rest, its paper containing a higher thread count than most people’s bed sheets. With his address scrawled in all too familiar loops of writing on the fine stationary Nigel dropped his remaining mail to be leafed through again later, a wicked grin pulling the corner of the bad man’s thin lips as he read the return address. Pouring himself another three fingers of Glenfiddich he walked with the glass and letter to drop onto his couch, sinking into the leather sofa as he regarded his mail. “And what do you have for me today?”

Glass in hand he took a deep swallow of the well-aged scotch, tasting the smooth flavors of honey and tarragon that lingered on his pallet as he slipped a thumb under the envelopes edge to tear the thick paper open, pulling from it several folded sheets of equally heavy writing paper that might have been better described as parchment. Unfolding the thick sheets Nigel found he couldn’t suppress the grin that split his face, the first page a sketch sent from his brother.

It was beautiful as all Hannibal’s sketches were, drawn with soft lines to show the flow of wispy curls caught in sun light and soft lips gently parted as though begging to be touched. Digging his phone from his pocket Nigel pressed the speed dial for his twin, taking another drink of scotch as he let the pad of his thumb run along the scruff drawn jaw of an angel who’s eyes never seemed to focus on him.

“Hannibal,” He smiled as the familiar voice of his brother sounded through the receiver. “Wanted to let you know I got your letter,” he drank again in the delicate strokes that had recreated the beautiful man depicted before him like a renaissance masterpiece, “and the sketch you sent with it. Is this Will Graham, that patient you keep telling me about?” The patient he kept asking him about.

Nigel was only half listening as Hannibal prattled on about how he would know if he’d bothered to read the letter before calling, he was far too interested in looking at those eyes set before him. Skittish in nature and framed with the curl of thick dark lashes he knew would look exquisite when half mooned over pale cheeks in the throws of ecstasy. He knew they were blue despite only being sketched in graphite. Something tinged more grey than the color of a true ocean sky, Hannibal having described the man in question to him in great detail one evening during one of their usual calls. He stared at those eyes now, unfocused and staring off to the side, drowning with too much emotion as they were lost to the world.

He wants to meet those wondering eyes, he wants to make them focus on him.

OoOoO  


TBC  



	2. Favors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets a call from an old friend and tries to convince Will to go to Bucharest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot Damn guys! Thanks for all the support! I wasn’t expecting so many comments to my little prologue, that was fucking amazing~<3 
> 
> I want you all to know it means the world to me when I get your comments (even the little ones), they sincerely drive me to write more and feed my creativity. C:
> 
> For example, I wrote the prologue and posted it with no intention of continuing the fic until after I wrapped up both Bonded to Killers and Shattering One's Reflection. So know that I mean it when I say you beautiful people drive me to write~<3
> 
> So thank you all very, very much!!! 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! C:
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

“Agent Crawford,” Jack caught the phone on its second ring, dark eyes ghosting over the text outlining one of their more recent murders as he pressed the cool plastic of the receiver to his ear. It had been a local artist’s third attempt to create a flesh and bone mermaid. One made by skinning and sewing the legs of a young woman together and replacing her flesh with layers of fish scales all quilted together like a rainbow sleeve of shimmering textures. The whole case had left a sour taste in his mouth and that taste had turned bitter as bile when the victim became one they couldn’t save, the girl taking her own life with the fish filleting knife used to skin her while the FBI was in hot pursuit of her tormentor.

Jack knew losing a couple of lives was all part of the job, but that didn’t mean he had to like it, just that he couldn’t let the loss interfere with his work.

Despite the recent case still eating at him the quirk of a smile pulled his somber lips into something with humor as a familiar accented voice greeted him over the line. “Jack, it’s Petre Morar.”

Smile set more firmly in place he dropped the disturbing document back into its folder, leaning back to better give his old friend the undivided attention he deserved. “Don’t worry I remember you Petre, it’s been a while. Nearly two years, how have you been?”

“I’ve been well,” he sounded both pleased and tired, as though something was eating at the edges of his mirth, “Luminita is pregnant again, she’s hoping for a girl this time, trying to even the scales some.”

Jack snorted a quiet laugh, “That’ll bring you up to three won’t it? The two boys should be hitting around three and five now right? I can see why she might want another girl in the house.”

“Mm,” Petre hummed his agreeance, sipping something on the other end of the line Jack could easily imagine as a strong cup of coffee. There was a seven hour time between Bucharest and Baltimore setting his friend at ten o’clock for a late night phone call to be reaching Jack at three. With that in mind it didn’t’ take a genius to know Something was up. “How’s Phyllis been doing?”

The mention of his sick wife brought a moment of hesitation to the agent before he could answer. “She has lung cancer, fourth stage. We’re trying to fight it.” He left out the part where the doctors thought it would be terminal and was thankful Petre didn’t push.

“I’m sorry to hear that Jack.” Despite the simple words he could tell by the give in his old friend’s voice that he meant it too, not just speaking the empty words expected of him. He still cared, even if contact wasn’t always the best between them.

“Its fine,” pushing thoughts of Bella to the back of his mind to settle among the rest of the shadows that followed him day to day Jack put his investigative skills to use, “So what can I do for you Petre? It’s been two years, you called for a reason.”

A humored laugh laced with exhaustion sounded through the phone familiar in all the ways it had been during their shared time in Italy. “Cutting to the chase already? You must be busy with work, I understand, so am I.” There was a moment of silence, the man on the other line sorting his thoughts, “I’ve been keeping up on the news Jack. You have been doing exceptionally well as of late with catching the bad guys. I would like to know how you have been catching so many high profile criminals.”

He knew there was something. “I’m an old hand at this Petre, just like you. Having some troubles of your own?”

“It might be a gang war for territory, or drugs. I don’t know.” The tired man answered honestly, “At first we were getting missing person reports, a couple here or there. Nothing too abnormal until the number kept rising. Now we’re finding some of those missing persons as bodies on display. These people are being found hanging from telephone wires and roof tops. We think it’s some kind of warning, but to who and why we have no idea, nothing to go by.” Jack could hear the turn of pages through the receiver, could almost see Petre sitting at his desk flipping through the sheets of his own reports one by one in search of clues that weren’t there; Reports with very loose ends and very angry families. “Six years ago I matched your mother for a kidney Jack, I did you a favor to saving her life and now I’m calling that in, I need to know what you’re doing to find these killers. We’re following procedure, but we keep coming up empty handed. I need something Jack. People are dying and I’m getting desperate.”

Silence fell between them, the quite long and filled with all the potential for lies and half-truths, ones’ that would keep Jack’s golden ticket to the ripper close at hand. “His name is Will Graham.” He paid that ticket forward.

OoOoO

“I want each of you to log onto your student account tonight and carefully examine the evidence present in each of the photos provided. You should be able to create a profile for the killer using the evidence from these images alone, I want to see that profile on paper and on my desk first thing tomorrow. You’re dismissed.” Will’s students knew better than to ask questions regarding their assignment, or the information provided for it. They could raise their hand and hold it high above their head all they liked but the only thing it was going to achieve was a very sore arm and some extra irritation by class end.

Turning off the projector Will stepped behind his desk as the flood of students found the door to disappear from his classroom, leaving their teacher to sort through papers and pack his shoulder bag in peace.

“You’re creating quite the workload for yourself with that bit of homework. Those young minds could come up with anything to slap on paper. Any reason you didn’t feel like providing them with some kind of outline?” Jack smiled, strolling into the large room as the last of Will’s eager student filtered out.

“I don’t have a check list when you have me to stand in front of a body Jack. Why should they?” he answered matter of fact, “Either they see it or they don’t and in this case there’s only one right answer.” He had posted the photos from an older case for the students to observe, one he’d profiled nearly six years past. As far as Will was concerned everything needed to profile the killer was in plain sight, all anyone had to do was open their eyes and look. But then again to Will it was always in plain sight, Jack was just too blind to see it; along with the rest of the world.

“You’re the teacher.” Jack succumbed, stopping in front of his favorite profiler’s desk with a weight in his step that spoke volumes to Will about how much he wasn’t going to be enjoying their next conversation. “Will, I’ve got a favor to ask you.”

The man in question didn’t look up from his bag as he stacked folders and papers to slide in alongside the laptop already tucked away, “What’s the favor?” Will asked with only a moment hesitation, because only fools and knights offered themselves up blindly.

“It’s a big one, but it’s one I owe to someone else.” Jack clarified, waiting for Will to more than less look at him. Stormy eyes settled on his tie before he continued, “I need you to go to Bucharest.”

“Bucharest?” blue gray danced closer to the man’s dark eyes, settling on his lips when he found he couldn’t take the last step to meet cool pools of brown. “Why do you need me in Bucharest? That’s hardly your jurisdiction Jack. I’d more expect you to ship me off to Alaska than Romania.”

“Like I said Will, it’s a big favor.” But he honestly was asking and not demanding that he go. Will thought that might have more to do with the man wanting to keep him local and at his disposal rather than actually caring about Will’s opinion on the trip. Jack had a way with bullying him into what he wanted. Will didn’t see any reason for him to suddenly change that now. Not unless it paid off some advantage for himself, like keeping him handy for the next possible Ripper case.

Looping the messenger bag over his shoulder Will regarded Jack for a long moment before answering, his words sharp and clipped. “I’m not a tool to be loaned out Jack. You can’t offer me up to someone like a cup of sugar.” Because like a cup of sugar some part of him wouldn’t be coming back. It was the price he had to pay every time he looked.

“There’s good money in it for you, you’ll be able to teach your lessons over Skype keeping up with your classes and the department is prepared to pay you for all work done on their behalf along with any living expenses while there.”

Will almost wanted to laugh, “You know it’s not the money Jack.” Not once had he ever imagined himself having this conversation with Jack, one entailing the pushy agent trying to convince him to _leave_.

Will felt his lip curl as he watched his part time boss change tactics; apparently more desperate to ship Will’s ass off to Russia, Romania than previously suspected. Whatever favor Jack was repaying was either one hell of a debt or this friend was the next best thing to Bella. “Will, I don’t think in all the time I’ve known you I’ve ever seen you leave country unless it was pertinent to a case. Even then it was only overnight in Mexico.” He leaned forward, hands settling on the desk between them to try and catch the illusive eyes that always seem to avoid his own, “This case isn’t as bloody as the Rippers Will. It would be easier for you to look, less damaging to your psyche.”

This time he did laugh; a dark humorless bark. “It’s never _easy_ to look Jack. There is no nice way to empathise with a psychopath. I relive those murders. Do you really think it’s any _easier_ for me to watch myself strangle a woman than it is to flay a man?”

“Will-” Jack tried to start again, voice stronger, edged with the authority he used to often to force his way.

Will didn’t give him the chance, letting stormy grey meet muddy brown just to make sure his point hit home. “I get that you owe this guy a favor Jack, but don’t try to push that on me. As far as I’m concerned I’m doing you a solid every time I step out of this classroom and into the field.”

Turning to leave Will barely made it three steps before he felt the push of another thick folder forced into his bag. “Just take a look at the file Will. It’s been going on for over a month with no leads; these people are dying and you know you can stop it.”

“I’m getting real sick of your pushing Jack.” He didn’t stop, refusing to look back as he left the classroom.

OoOoO

“You’re looking stressed Will, more so than usual. What seems to be the trouble?” Hannibal questioned, his usual charming mask in place as he to entertain his favorite dinner guest.

“It’s Jack,” Will didn’t even try to hide it, knew there was no point. Hannibal could read Will as well as Will could read anyone.

Catching a cherry tomato between crooked teeth Hannibal chewed thoughtfully at the small roasted fruit, letting the flesh burst in his mouth with acidic flavors and sweet juices. “Sending you after more of the monsters than you can handle?”

A sardonic grin pulled his lips, “No actually, he’s sending me away.”

That made the doctor pause, Hannibal carefully regarding Will for a long moment before taking a cut of the sautéed rabbit he had prepared, “Away? I find that difficult to imagine, Jack has made himself rather reliant upon you. I feel he would find himself lost without his favorite bloodhound by his side.” Useless would be the more accurate term, “Where is it that Uncle Jack is sending you?”

The comment tugged a slightly more honest smile to the usually somber man’s face, Will having thought the same thing. Jack had grown too reliant upon him since pulling him back into the field, Will honestly wasn’t sure he would know what to do without him. “Bucharest, Romanian.”

This time when the doctor took a moment it was to lay down his cutlery entirely, opting instead to sample his wine with the turn of conversation; Too many words to be shared with the discussion of Will’s possible departure for one to be dinning.

“That truly is peculiar,” With a twist of his hand Hannibal watched the swirl of rich liquid cling like blood to crystal walls, crimson tears forming in the liquors wake as the doctor scented its heady aroma, “What business does Jack have in Bucharest to be sending you after the monsters there?”

“He doesn’t,” Will answered while not, taking another bite of meat so tender it seemed to melt on his tongue. “He owes a friend a favor and somehow I’m it.” All flavor seemed to evaporate as his old friend stress ate away his appetite, leaving Will to set aside his own silver wear much as Hannibal had, leaning back in his seat to regard his therapist and friend more fully.

Sipping the pinto noire to let flavors of black cherries and currants dance over his tongue Hannibal tried to place his mind in Bucharest and the more recent events he had read regarding the Romanian city. “I believe I may have come across a few articles pertaining to the case Jack hopes you’ll be pursuing.” Hannibal offered, his keen mind already forming new plans with the sudden development. “There has been speculation of gang wars, possibly over drugs or territory, but nothing substantial has been found in regard to the murders with the exception of a body count.” Maroon eyes turned up just in time to catch a flash of stormy grey, the profilers fleeting gaze dropping to study his lips instead, ever elusive. “Though the victims have been found beaten and in a few cases displayed, the murders in Bucharest could be described as reserved in comparison to what you are accustomed to when working with Jack.”

Will quickly read between the lines, surprised by when he found there. “You think I should take this case?”

“I think you should take a vacation from Jack.” He clarified. “The shadows you will be chasing in Bucharest are far less than the ones you have been chasing here.”

“I’m at a loss for words,” Will admitted, wondering exactly how much wine he’d drank since arriving, it obviously wasn’t enough. “You honestly believe this would be good for me? With how unstable I’ve been you think I should go to Bucharest?” He debated tossing back the remainder of his pinot noir like a cheap shot, table etiquette be damned he needed the drink.

Hannibal slipped his mask to one of reassurance, voice taking on the blended tone of therapist and friend. “It is in both my personal and professional opinion that you take this opportunity. I believe the time away will help your stability, not hinder it. I think a ‘vacation’ would calm you.”

Silence fell between them as Will’s eyes skirted lower to settle on Hannibal’s hands, their skittish gaze wanting to avoid the man’s face altogether for what it might read there, “What if I need you?” It was asked in a quiet tone, almost shamed. Will recognized the stability he took from Hannibal with their every encounter and the growing dependence that lay there.

If he had allowed his gaze to remain on the doctor’s face he might have caught the slight pull of lips in a not so friendly smile, a flicker of possession passing through warm maroon eyes and the barest slip of a mask to something darker, something that owned. _“I sincerely hope you do,”_ Were the words left unspoken as he sampled another taste of the heady wine, thoughts of Will’s growing dependence while trapped in Bucharest dancing through his mind’s eye.

Will was a lonely man now, but he would be desperate once he was isolated. With no acquaintances to call friends or dogs to come home to the messages and phone calls to Hannibal would be a life line for the profiler, one he would use like a lure to guide Will like until he willing swam into his net with a longing desperation to be owned. “I will always be available to you by phone, day or night and there is of course e-mail. I will send you a schedule of my availed times before, during and after appointments each day. And we can continue your weekly sessions over Skype.”

With Hannibal backing Jack Will felt as though he didn’t have a leg to stand on. “You honestly believe this will be good for me?”

“Will, I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” But he was enjoying watching those walls of resistance crumble around Will enough to say them again, breaking forts with the clever words of his tongue, “Yes, I believe getting away from Jack and the Ripper would do you good.”

Resolve gone he tossed back the blood colored liquor like a shot of cheap whiskey. “Fine,” He regretted the words even as they slipped between his lips, “I’ll go.”

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, the next chapter introduces our darling Nigel~<3 
> 
> Your comments get you faster updates, your kudos are appreciated~<3 <3 <3


	3. Jet Lag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will take a flight to Bucharest and meets Petre.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've done a BUTT load of research for this chapter (an amount of which involved translating a Bucharest police site with babble fish to try and get the information I needed) so please be kind if you find inaccuracies and want them corrected, I can only do so much and after spending close to thirty hours on this one chapter I'm going to post it.
> 
> Also, I keep getting the question as to why Hannibal didn't go to Bucharest so I’m going to explain it here for everyone. 
> 
> Hannibal has a life of his own, he can’t just drop everything and run away to Bucharest on a whim. 
> 
> He has a practice he has to maintain and he has a plan he’s going to play with while Will is away. If the man was to suddenly drop everything and follow Will across the world when they’re not even dating (and unlike Will he wouldn't be getting paid for it), it would just seem crazy. Even to Will.
> 
> For this reason Hannibal is remaining in Baltimore. 
> 
> I will answer any questions people have in regards to the fic but please keep in mind that this story is only just starting and it’s planned to be a loooooong one. A lot of this stuff is going to be explained as I go. C: 
> 
> Also, this chapter got reeeeeally long and I had to split it up…so Nigel is in the next chapter instead of this one (sorry). But it was that or this chapter would have been 10K plus!!!
> 
> Anyway, read on and enjoy~<3

Thanks to an unhealthy blend of insomnia and anxiety Will was already up and more than less awake when the sound of a knock came to his door at quarter past four. “This should be interesting,” Will muttered, abandoning the coffee pot half filled with water to hush his excited pack with a quick tsk and answer the door. He was only slightly surprised to find his unexpected visitor was Hannibal Lecter, the man standing on his front porch showered, shaved and dressed in a warm fitted cashmere pull over and slim charcoal slacks, what the good doctor considered to be his ‘casual best’. ”Good morning Will,” He greeted, sounding far too chipper than anyone had any right to be with the moon still hanging low in the sky and stars blinking in the early hours of the morning. “May I come in?”

Holding the door a little wider Will stepped to the side allowing his friend entrance, “What are you doing here Hannibal?” Will felt it was an expected if not reasonable question considering most of the population would still be in bed asleep, and as far as Will was concerned, through eccentric, Hannibal was very much one of those normal individuals who should still be in bed.

“Your flight leaves at nine fifteen, I would like to see you on your way.” He offered in explanation, entering the little farm house with one of his more rare and genuine smiles. “I thought you might appreciate a drive to the airport and a hot breakfast.” Hannibal lifted what appeared to be a thermal bag as he found Will’s little table, unloading several expensive containers that Will knew would be Hannibal’s version of home cooking, a of mouth-watering meal better suited to a five star restaurant than Will’s little kitchen.

Following his unofficial psychiatrist Will gathered some of his better plates and cutlery to set the table as Hannibal sorted containers of fresh diced fruit and eggs with sausage, “You didn’t have to do this.” Will said even as his mouth began to water, a small awkward smile pulling the corner of his lips as perfect coffee pour into the mugs set between them.

Maroon caught stormy grey, their gazes held as he allowed Will to read the genuine friendly intent alight within, “I beg to differ, it will be all too long before I see you grace my table again Will. I would very much like to make the most of what little time you still remain here,” fingers sliding along the containers edge he paused, “That is of course if you’ll have me.”

Will let that small smile made foreign and strained from lack of use pull the corners of his mouth into something a little wider and more genuine, the skin by his eyes creasing as he took a seat across from the man he was going to miss most, “I’d like that, thank you.”

“Good,” Popping the lid of the first container Hannibal handed Will the thick glass tupperware, “I thought for our last meal we might return to where we began.”

Will didn’t miss the poetry as he scooped a healthy helping of fluffy protein scramble onto his plate. A reminder of just how far their friendship had come since the morning of Hannibal’s first visit to his little house. He would be making Will eat his own words with every bite of fluffy well-seasoned egg and juicy sausage.

“I still don’t find you that interesting.” He grinned around his fork, looking up at the doctor as he took at bit of savory meat.

The look was met with one of pure amusement, “Liar.”

OoOoO

“Thanks for the drive Hannibal and offering to handle the packs kenneling. You really didn’t have to put yourself out.” Will had been more than prepared to leave the pack in Jack’s unwilling though capable hands and bring his own car. The idea of parking for the extended trip to collect an exuberant parking fee upon his return for Jack to reimburse had been more than a little appealing, but the friendly insistence to see Will off and offer for pick had him leaving his Volkswagen at home to make the ride out to Baltimore with the doctor.

“It is no trouble at all. You hadn’t expected Uncle Jack to fly you out first thing in the morning and arrangements are still needed to be made.” He answered popping the trunk to help Will with his luggage, “It is of no inconvenience to me to assist a friend.”

Hannibal, ever the courteous gentleman, left Will feeling more like he was being seen off by a lover rather than a friend, his unofficial therapist holding his carry on as he handled pick-up for the last minute ticket that had been purchased on his behalf and the weigh in of his other luggage. It wasn’t until they stood before the first security gates that Hannibal at last relinquished the bag, having accompanied Will as far as airline security would allow without purchase of a ticket.

“I would like for you to call me when you arrive in Bucharest.” He requested, handing the bag back for Will to loop over his own shoulder.

Arching a brow at what sounded more like a polite order rather than a friendly request Will looked at his ticket, eyes scanning the departure and arrival times printed in thick black letters under the gate. “It’ll be three in the morning here.” He offered in argument.

“And I will be up.” He didn’t miss a beat, seemingly unfazed by the early hour. “Please, I’d like to know you’ve arrived safely.”

Left feeling a peg of guilt at the thought of Hannibal wasting his evening waiting for him Will offered a compromise. “I’ll send you text.”

“I find that agreeable.” He smiled, leaning close enough for Will to feel the warmth of his body though thin cashmere and smell the earthy spices of his cologne as he brushed a stray curl behind the profiler’s ear, invading far more of Will’s personal space then necessary. “Have a safe trip. I look forward to sharing dinner with you upon your return.” The kiss that was pressed to startled lips was enough to make Will’s his heart stop, leaving him frozen as the doctor pulled away to brush a calloused thumb over the rough hair of his jaw, reading something in the startled man’s expression before the pull of a smile found his thin lips and he took his leave, walking away with steady strides.

Without thinking he lifted fingers to trace the still tingling skin of his lips, afraid he might whip away the dream of Hannibal’s flesh against his own if he touched their mark directly. “Hannibal?” he found his voice at last, watching his back disappear as he receded into the crowd.

Handing his ticket and passport to the security at the first clearance door Will paused on the other side of the gate when he heard his cell sound for an incoming text. Stepping to the side so not to obscure other passengers he fished it out of his pocket, checking the screen to find a message from Hannibal reading three simple words.

_“Check your bag.”_

Falling back in line he followed the slow stream of passengers to the next set of gates, opening the carry on Hannibal had been so insistent upon holding. Will raised a brow in quiet regard as he found what the doctor had hidden inside; it could only be a book, the hard rectangle bound in matt black paper with a thin gold ribbon fastened around its middle, a gift for his flight that left Will’s stomach doing interesting tricks.

“He’s flirting with me,” Will felt the warmth of a blush he was all too happy the man in question was not present to witness crawling under his skin. The gift might have been mistaken as a friendly gesture if not for the kiss, but Hannibal had wanted him to see the present exactly for what it was. Feeling his face grow warmer at the memory of lips against his own Will slipped his fingers beneath one corner of the thick paper, tearing the edge away to watch an unexpected small white capsule tumbled free of the wrapping.

“What?” Picking up the runaway pill Will rolled it between his fingers, checking the outer shell for any telltale signs to what it might be. Finding nothing but clear gelatin filled with powder he glanced to the upcoming security and slipped the small capsule between his teeth, catching it to hold between his molars before it could appear anything more than a tic tac. Seeking further explanation Will returned his attention to the book, quickly stripping away the remaining wrapping to reveal the hard cover collection of thesis written by none other than Dr. Chilton. “Not what I was expecting,” Will muttered around the pill, opening the obnoxious tittle to examine the jacket for further clues. He wasn’t disappointed as several thick folded piece of paper slipped from behind the inner cover.

Unfolding the heavy stationary Will was forced to smile as he read over the quick message scrawled in elegant loops unexpected of a medical professional.

 

_Dearest William,_

_I had intended for Dr. Chilton’s recently published collection to be a birthday present of sorts, however with recent developments I feel it may be better suited to keep you company during your long flight. I myself rather enjoy a good comedy while traveling. I hope you will find the same mirth while skimming the doctor’s words that I have._

_Enclosed with the book you may have also noticed a small white pill. It is a melatonin capsule; take it now and another when you reach Bucharest. You will find the remaining bottle in the upper left corner of your suitcase. They will help quicken the recovery from your jet lag._

_I have also enclosed a short list of some sights you may wish to explore during your free time while in Bucharest, having taken vacation in the Romanian city a number of times over the years these remain to be a few of my personal favorites._

_I wish you luck on your investigation as well as a safe flight and quick return. My table shall be entirely too empty without your company._

_Yours,_

_Hannibal_

Dry swallowing the capsule still set between his teeth Will turned to the second page of the letter finding a short list of cafés, restaurants, museums and a number of shops he wouldn’t know what to expect in until he took the time to visit. The following page after that was a drawn map of thick and thin inked lines illustrating the heart of the city with each of the shops mentioned on the previous page featured upon it.

Will touched the fine line of the main road, following the ink with his finger until he came to a turn onto one of the many side streets. It was beautifully drawn, Hannibal’s incredible skill showing in the precise placement of each stroke. Between the drawing, letter, list and breakfast Will had the sneaking suspicion that Hannibal hadn’t bothered with sleep at all the night before, instead sacrificing his evening to share dinner with Will and upon his departure set himself to the task of creating something beautiful for the disembarking profiler.

“He’s too good to me,” Will told himself as he tucked the thoughtful letter and book back into his bag before loading it and his shoes into an x-ray trey. Passing through the final gate with his bag back in hand Will once again searched out his cell phone, pressing the quick dial for Dr. Lecter. He wasn’t surprised to hear his friend answer before the end of the second ring. “You were expecting my call.”

“Call or text,” Hannibal confirmed. “Do you like the book?”

“It wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting.” Will admitted, looking at his bag and the read he anticipated to be more of a headache than anything enjoyable. “Care to explain your motive?”

He could almost hear the smile, an almost inaudible hum and the barest tilt of lips that one could so easily miss if they weren’t looking for it. “Something to keep you entertained. I think you’ll find this copy to be rather one of a kind.”

The curious comment left Will wondering if there was a key typo listed repeatedly throughout the work, “And the melatonin?” He asked changing subject, his throat still felt sticky where the pill had scraped against its back on the way down.

“It will help you regulate to your new sleeping cycle, a natural non-addictive drug to assist in re-setting your biological clock.” Will heard the car door and could easily see Hannibal as he climbed into the Bentley, leaning back in his seat completely at ease.

“Thank you.” Will said as he debated dropping into one of the many hard plastic airport seats lining the waiting room, he was exhausted but with thoughts of an eighteen hour flight ahead of him Will ignored his tired bodies vote for an uncomfortable chair in favor of stretching his legs a little bit longer before his confinement. “You didn’t have to get me anything. The send-off and breakfast were more than enough.”

“I wanted to.” He reassured him, “It could be quite some time before I see you again.”

“Hopefully sooner than later,” He closed his eyes, focusing on the voice in his ear and the face in his mind. He could see him so clearly, the two of them sitting in Hannibal’s office having another one of their ‘conversations’, not over a phone between an airport and a car. He wanted to be in the office now.

“I find myself hoping much the same.” He would be looking at Will while he would be looking anywhere else, maybe over the man’s shoulder or letting his eyes unfocus as he followed the pattern on his tie.

He opened his eyes, letting the vision of Hannibal fade away as he cast a glace to the letter tucked safely away in the side pocket of his bag, “You gave me quite the list of recommendations, I didn’t know you were so fond of Romania.”

“I have vacationed there a number of times.” He explained, “Bucharest is a beautiful city in its own right, though my tastes run closer to Florence, I still enjoy my time there. I hope despite that case you might enjoy some of your time there as well.”

A moment of silence fell between them as the unexpected question was asked. “Will you kiss me again when I get back?”

“Would you like me to?” Neither question was answered as the announcement for boarding sounded over the intercom and the murmur of passengers gathering their baggage rose in volume around him. “That must be your flight.”

Will was clinging to the last of home through the sound of Hannibal voice, knowing that once that call ended he’d be on a plane and pulled away from everything he knew and loved for weeks. “Yeah, they’re boarding now. I’ll send you a message when we land.”

“Have a safe flight Will, enjoy the book.”

“I’m sure I will.” Ending the call Will fished his boarding pass from his bag and made his way to the stretching line, the thin piece of paper seemed to hold far more weight to it than it had any right to as he handed it and his pass port to the man at the counter and walked down the ramp for the plane.

Finding his seat Will looked out the book he’d packed for himself, an old paperback by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. His hand paused over the hard cover purchased by Hannibal as he made to re-zip his bag. Despite his dislike for Frederic Will found himself leaving the Sherlock collection in favor of what he expected to at least help him fall asleep on the flight before tucking his bag into the overhead and dropping into his seat by the window.

Opening the book he read the beginning thesis title and laughed. The large block letter print reading “The Chilton Theory of Criminology” was followed by the ever familiar soft curl of Hannibal’s pen, _“A touch egotistical isn’t he?”_

Thumbing through the pages Will found much to his delight that the thin blue cursive could be found between lines and in the margins of nearly every page. “A comedy,” He grinned remembering the letter as he returned to the first page and began to read.

OoOoO

Will had known walking into the airport that flying from Baltimore to Bucharest was going to be at least a little unpleasant, but he still hadn’t been prepared for the jet lag that came with eleven hours on a plan and two three hour stop overs.

Exhaustion didn’t even come close to the kind of tired Will was feeling, he hadn’t slept on the plane and hadn’t expected to. He had a hard enough time sleeping in his own home, never mind sleeping while crowded by other people. It left him feeling disoriented, dehydrated and desperate for a bed. Any bed really, he’d crawl in next to the Ripper if he’d let him get some shut eye.

Trying to blink away some of the sleep from his eyes Will searched for a clock, feeling his stomach drop as he read the early hour. It was ten in the morning, making it three for his biological clock. Will had been awake for just over twenty-six hours and was running on only four hours of sleep and three cups of bad airplane coffee. He’d count it a miracle if he didn’t take a nap on the _baggage carousel._

Despite his exhaustion Will rooted through his pant pocket to retrieve his phone, turning the signal back on to send a quick message out to the man waiting for safe arrival. “ _Here, not dead._ ” If Hannibal wanted anything more articulate than that he’d either have to wait until Will found a bed or take up conversing with a rock.

Pushing the phone back into his pocket Will moved with the tide of bodies, letting himself be lead to the baggage carousel as he silently prayed to whatever deity that might be listening he not be forced to look at a body until he managed at least a few hours’ sleep.

Hearing a loud buzz, one Will personally thought might have been made to replicate the wailing of an alarm clock and startle the tired passengers awake, he watched as the conveyer belt began its slow turn around the island; the loud thump of luggage being thrown behind the dividing wall onto the carousel drawing jet legged passengers closer in the hopes of getting their bags first and getting the hell out.

Not feeling the same need to fight with bodies better rested than his own Will stood back and watched as bag after bag drifted by, eyes skimming the luggage for his own plain navy suitcase with the length of neon colored rope tied to its handle.

When at last he saw his suitcase slid out from the split plastic curtain Will pushed through enough of the crowd to grab it by its handle and drag to the side, shouldering himself free of the chaos to head for the door. His next challenge would be finding a cab to take him to a motel, but at least he’d have a bed when he was done.

Carry-on over one shoulder and luggage trailing behind him on rolling wheels Will left the airport through rotating doors, stopping in the blinding morning sun as he was greeted by an unexpected escort. Will stared for a moment as he took in the officer who had been roped into being his pick-up, the man dressed in a suit was holding a neon strip of bristle board above his head with ‘William Graham’ printed on it in crooked thick black letters.

Cursing his luck Will took a deep breath to brace himself for the series of meetings he was not yet ready to receive and strolled toward the man in the suit. He looked bored but attentive, obviously watching for the profiler who would be leaving the airport and had no idea he would have somebody waiting for him on the other side. Will had been under the impression that he would be disembarking, grabbing a cab to his cheap hotel and given enough time for a coffee and a piss before having to play the game of meet and greet. Apparently that memo had been changed during the flight.

“Special Agent William Graham?” the man asked as he approached, lowering his sign to offer a hand in friendly greeting when Will nodded.

Adjusting his shoulder bag he accepted the friendly courtesy, shaking hands with the stranger and trying not to read his life story through his simple actions, clothes and eyes. But the man wasn’t making it easy. The officer that had been sent to meet him was wearing him life on his sleeves, care free except for a mortgage and happy with his lot in life, “Yes, good morning.” Will replied though it felt like the middle of the night, even with the sun blazing down on him Will’s body knew it was three in the morning and was doing it’s damn best to try and remind him that he should be lying in his comfortable bed staring at his ceiling and willing sleep to find him while surrounded by snoring dogs, not standing in the late morning sun in Bucharest, Romania.

“I am officer Alexandru Vasilescu, thank you for coming.” He offered a warm smile, taking Will’s shoulder bag as he led the tired profiler to an old Volkswagen, popping the trunk to push the carry on inside before taking the rolling suitcase to follow its lead. “I know you must be tired Domnul Graham, but Chestor Morar would like to see you before you get settled in your room for the day. I do not believe you officially start with us until tomorrow.”

Nodding Will followed him into the car, dropping into the passenger seat with all the enthusiasm of a dead man. All he wanted was bed. But if he couldn’t have that he’d settle for coffee. This man, Chestor Morar, was a friend of Jack’s and like Jack this man was a high ranking officer. Will didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he had to with his jet lagged cognitive skills. “Sure, that’s fine. Do you think we could grab some coffee before we take off?” Will wasn’t sure he could be trusted to remember his own name without prompting right then, he didn’t want to try meeting his temporary boss until he had at least a little caffeine pumping through his system.

“I can only imagine how tired you must be Domnul Graham. There is a café not too far from here I sometimes go to with my wife. Let me buy you something to eat as a welcome to Bucharest. It will give you a chance to wake up a little before we see the Chestor.” Staring out the window Will nodded as they pulled into traffic barely aware, frankly Will was tired enough that Officer Vasilescu could have been offering to shave his head and Will probably would have agreed.

He really needed to sleep.

OoOoO

The café had turned out to be a small pretty thing with a hand full of tables set up on the street side, it was busy but Will took that as a sign of good coffee and decent food. He’d dropped into one of the outdoor chairs with the same enthusiasm he’d shown in the car and let his escorting officer order for him, Will ended up with a fresh made panini and an espresso dark enough to peel paint. After the first sip of much needed caffeine Will was pleased to find that his initial impression had been right.

It took another double espresso and a coffee to go before Will was feeling even remotely coherent, his mind a puddle clouded by sediment waiting to settle, but at least it was better than the zombie that had been parading around in his skin before.

When they arrived at the station Will was led through an atmosphere simultaneously familiar and foreign as he followed the eager officer leading him to the Chestor’s office. Alexandru was talking and he was trying to remember the multitude of murmured information being fed to him but despite his best efforts Will didn’t expect to remember more than half of what the officer was spouting. He just hoped it would be enough to get him by until he could discern the layout for himself.

“Just one moment Domnul Graham.” Officer Vasilescu smiled as they came to a door, knocking twice and waiting before they heard something in Romanian Will didn’t understand and the man disappeared inside. A few more muffled foreign words were exchanged and the door opened again Alexandru leaving as the man inside stood to wave Will in.

“You must be Will Graham. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Chestor Petre Morar. When we’re on duty I’d like you to call me Chestor Morar, off duty Domnul Morar.” The man behind the desk beamed friendly and open, his teeth were crooked and stained yellow from tobacco but he smiled to show them off all the same. “Jack’s told me all about you Domnul Graham, you’re quite the profiler. Thank you for taking the time to come visit.” He offered a hand, shaking Will’s own before indicating the seat across from his desk.

Sliding into yet another chair and wishing he could stand for just a little bit longer to stretch his legs, Will offered what he hoped came off as a friendly sort of nod. Hannibal said he was rude when scared or irritated and from what he’d read on Romania before his flight the people took great pride in good manners. Meeting an official with jet lag was not about to do him any favors if he couldn’t’ watch his tongue. “Jack said you needed the help.”

“Yes, we have a rather elusive killer in our mists.” He pursed his lips, studying Will’s tired form to take all of the ‘star profiler’ in. As far as Petre could tell the unshaved baggy eyed man who sat before him didn’t look like much. If he had to describe him he thought he looked warn, as though he were on the verge of breaking. “Have you had a chance to read the file?”

“I have, but I’m afraid it’s not going to do me any good. I need to see the crime scenes in person in order to make a proper profiler for you, the fresher the better. It helps me get inside the killers head.” He focused on the Chestor’s lips, it was the best he could do for eye contact and he hoped Jack had taken the time to explain some of his more peculiar quirks. “Did Jack explain to you how I work?” How his empathy worked.

Petre had to admit he had found the entire idea of leaving the man alone with the corpses a little disturbing and his method of profiling more so. Climbing inside the minds of killers made him sound more crazy than useful, but he was desperate and Jack had sworn by the young man. “Yes, he mentioned your peculiar needs for the crime scene. Does that mean I’m going to have to wait for someone else to die before you can give me a profile?” he wasn’t impressed.

Will bit his inner cheeks; bit them hard enough to taste the copper tang of blood as he kept his sour comments to himself. This man wasn’t Jack and right now he was the one controlling Will’s living arrangements along with his ticket home, as much as he wanted to snap with his over tired agitation he pushed the irritation that came with no one understanding and the looks that screamed crazy aside. “I can go through the file and revisit a few of the kill sights, look at any of the corps’ you still have for processing. Pictures are hard for me to work with but I’ll see what I can come up with.” He offered, reading everything so clearly from Petre’s face. The special kind of crazy he was pegging Will to be. It was the same kind of crazy Freddy often cited him as and it was making him mad. “But if you don’t mind, I really need to get some sleep before I can start any of this. It’s been a long flight.”

“Of course,” Petre gave him one last long look over before rising from his desk, pulling from his drawer a temporary badge and file. No gun or cuffs, the missing weight would leave him feeling naked when standing over a body, but it was something he’d just have to wait and deal with. “The first page of the file contains the address for your temporary residence, they’ll have a key for you at the main office, just show them a piece of ID.”

Will nodded taking the file as he rose from his seat, “Thank you.”

“Will I be seeing you in the morning Domnul Graham?” Walking around his desk Petre saw Will to the door, offering his hand in one last ‘friendly’ hand shake.

“I’ll be in at nine.” He promised.

Stepping out the door and all too happy to hear it close behind him Will was met by a still cheery Vasilescu sitting in a chair across the hall, “How did it go?”

Opening the file Will scanned the page, tapping his finger on the address provided, “Would you mind giving me a ride?”

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are riding circles on the baggage carousel, your comments are still asleep on the plane.
> 
> OoOoO
> 
> Domnul - An honorific holding the equivalent of 'Mr'


	4. Ouroboros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets Nigel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your patience!! (This chapter involved 10+ hours of research)
> 
> This is the first time in my life I’ve had to look up super markets just so I could figure out if any would be open and if they were what would they be selling. XD
> 
> Turns out they have quite the variety of super markets to choose from most being in a similar style to a Super Store (Canadian grocery store that also happens to have a section for house hold items but doesn’t (generally) carry any LARGE furnishings (oven, beds, washer/dryer)).
> 
> After a few hours of research I’ve decided to place Will in Sector 3 somewhere near Lipscani. It’s the district with the most tourists and the biggest night life scene so I believe that it’s where Charlie Countryman would have been located. I’ve taken the liberty of naming Darko’s strip club Ouroboros since I couldn’t find the name listed anywhere and didn’t hear it mentioned in the movie.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the chapter, it's got some cute fluffy bits and the appearance of our dark and sexy Nigel at last~<3
> 
> THANK YOU sfk FOR GIVING ME THE CORRECT TRANSLATION FOR PART OF THIS CHAPTER!!!!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

Nigel watched in quiet delight as the boy trying to be a man begged for his life. He tapped out a stick of tobacco from his soft pack of Camel’s, walking a slow circle around the piece of shit who’d tried to sell in the wrong god damn territory. “One of my regulars has been having some trouble meeting their quota. Say’s that you and your boys have been interfering in their sales, stealing clients.” He fished a silver plated zippo from his pocket, an anniversary gift from his darling Gabi, and flicked the top to light up.

Pulling in a deep breath of smoke and nicotine he looked down to the sniveling bag of flesh at his feet, the man was on his hands and knees staring up at Nigel like an angle of death. It did things to him to see people like that, fed the live wire of nerves and adrenalin that held him on edge pulsing fire like blood through his veins.

God he loved his job.

“I’m sorry, please, let me go. Let me talk to Marku,” Bargaining, it was one of the stages of death or acceptance of death or some shit like that, it was something he knew his dear brother could spout an ear full about without even trying, but Nigel? Nigel knew it usually came after he’d beating the living fuck out of some poor bastard and right before he finished kicked the pegs out from under them to send them on their marry way to hell. “I-I can bring him a message. Let him know that Darko don’t want us on his terf.” He also knew it was boring, the babbling stopped with a cough of vomit and pain, the satisfying sink of flesh beneath his foot bringing a smile to the bad man’s face as Nigel drove his loafer into soft belly.

“You think I should let you go?” They always did, he wasn’t surprised. “Let you crawl back to that fucking weeping cunt you call a boss?” he laughed, drawing another slow drag of smoke into his lungs as he pulled his tokarev TTC from the waist of his jeans, tapping the barrel against the poor fuckers scull. “You obviously don’t think too much of me if you think I’d let you walk away.” Crouching down he gripped the sack of shit by the roots of his hair, twisting them tight enough to tear a few from his scalp and make him scream as he cranked his head back to better meet Nigel’s bloody eyes and the barrel of his favorite gun. “If I wanted to send Marku a warning, I’d be mailing him your tongue in an envelope of that piss weak sugar you call cocaine.”

Sniveling, the man clenched his eyes, body frozen as he felt the tokarev press against his temple hard enough to bruise. “Please! Please, let me bring him a warning! We’ll get off your terf, you’ll never see me again-”

“ _Sweet dreams are made of these, who am I to disagree…”_

Stunned into silence the boy slowly raised his dewy brown eyes to blink up at Nigel in confused terror, “Hold that thought,” The bad man pushed his face into the concrete as he pulled an old modeled flip phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID. It made him smile like a cat on crack. “I’m just gonna take this, you don’t mind right?” The grin was all predator and teeth as he stood and flipped open the phone, gun trained on the whimpering man at his feet. “Hanni, what a pleasant surprise, not our usual time though.”

“Have I interrupted something?” Was asked by the smooth voice so much like his own.

“Neh, I’m just finishing up a little work, cleaning up for a client.” He emphasized his point with another kick to the ribs, rolling the man onto his side with a whining groan.

“My apologies,” Nigel roll his eyes, Hannibal and his fucking ethics, always miss manners.

“Its fine, I’m almost done with this piece of shit, he knows what’s coming so the best part’s over.” A broken sob sounded from said piece of shit as he curled around himself, shielding his vitals or searching for comfort in a fetal position that was gonna do fuck all against a bullet or Nigel’s brutality.

“Might I inquire what your work pertains to these days?” He could hear the sound of pots moving in the background meaning either his brother was cooking or cleaning. “I‘ve been seeing quite a few bodies in the Bucharest news as of late. Would those have anything to do with you?”

“Odd for you to take an interest in _my_ work, you worried about me Hanni?” He asked bemused. They were both killers, predators in their own right, more than capable of taking care of themselves and their business.

“The Bucharest police have become deeply concerned with the sudden display of bodies appearing around town Nigel,” He said in warning, “they’ve borrowed an FBI profiler to assist in the capture of their recent serial killer. I’m simply checking up on my baby brother.”

He laughed, “Six minutes doesn’t count Hanni.” But joking aside the idea of outside resources being sought in his capture was a concern worth noting. “You have a name for this agent they’re renting?”

“I’m afraid not.” He sighed, “Jack does keep some secrets when he dines at my table.”

“So it’s a courtesy call?” he took another pull of tobacco, finishing the cigarette to flick its stub. “Thanks for the warning, I’ll be sure to keep a low profile.”

“I’ll let you know if I learn anything more of interest. Enjoy the rest of your evening Nigel.”

“You know I will.” Flipping the phone shut he turned bloody eyes back to his latest victim. “Well, looks like it’s your lucky day.” Those terror filled brown eyes turned up to meet blood stained earth, a spark of hope coming to life within them that Nigel desperately wanted to snub. “I need to leave a few more bodies breathing so I’m going to cut you a deal. You wrap those pretty lips of yours around the curb for me and I’ll let you walk away with a message for your boss.” The flood of horror that drown that little light was enough to make his cock twitch, another flood of adrenalin feeding his live wire in anticipation.

“Y-you want me to…” He swallowed, watching Nigel’s calm smile and crazed eyes as he turned the barrel of his tokarev back between his eyes. The message was clear enough, it was his choice but Nigel was anything but patient, make a choice or he’d make it for him. Tears swelling over the brim of his eyes and limbs quivering in a mix of fear and pain more intoxicating to the bad man above him than a pill of ecstasy the man dragged himself to the sidewalks edge, the slow leisure steps of the killer behind him following as he lowered his mouth to wrap lips around the cornered concrete.

“Good boy.” Nigel purred spraying the road with blood as teeth caved down the man’s throat with the slam of a foot to the back of his head. His scream was like music to the bad man’s ears, ringing out to fill the afternoon sky as he played his victim like an instrument in the private performance of violence. “Tell Marku to keep out of Darko’s territory or next time he’ll be the one chocking on his fucking teeth.”

OoOoO

If Will hadn’t been happy to have Alexandru with him before he was more than grateful to have his company during the pickup of the keys for his living accommodations. The man working the front desk didn’t know a lick of English and Will didn’t trust his skills with babble fish to get the keys without offending somebody in the process.

“Thanks, again.” He offered a strained smile to the officer who seemed all too happy to wave it off as no big deal.

“Don’t worry about it Domnul Graham. I’m sure if the tables were turned you would have done the same for me.” The man was so cherry, carefree and full of life Will couldn’t help but feel jealous of him.

“Will is fine, we’re not at work and I’m not very formal.” He tried for make that strained smile a little more sincere as he shouldered his bag and accepted his suitcase. He hoped it wasn’t as awkward as it felt.

Alexandru laughed, grinning at Will with the humor of a joke he was missing the punch line of. “You don’t know too much about our culture do you Will?”

He shrugged, seeing no reason to try and deny the truth, “I was asked to join the investigation and was on a flight less than twenty-four hours later. I didn’t really have the chance to look up anything other than time difference and the expiration date of my pass port. I think it’s safe to assume I’m missing more than a few things.” And he had a good guess what one of them might be. “First name bases an intimate issue for you?”

“It’s a big step, something earned. Usually first name is saved for close friends and family.” He shrugged, “At least in the business world and the more formal homes anyway. I like the American culture myself, open and friendly.” He opened the outer door for Will to drag his bags through. “You can call me Alex if you like. I’ll try to give you a hand wrapping your head around everything until you get settled.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” Will nodded, too tired to process more than he had to and really not wanting to think about how long he was going to be stuck there if he had to get ‘settled’ into a furnished apartment.

Needed to get to bed and praying that this rooming arrangement would have something half decent to sleep on Will gave his newest acquaintance a wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, enjoy your stay.” With a smile and a nod Alex turned to leave Will to his settling in.

With Alex gone Will returned to the task at hand, hefting his bags to hobble down stairs to the apartment supplied him on the ground floor. Key in hand he took a long slow breath to brace himself before opening the door.

It could have been worse.

Kicking the door shut behind him and toeing off his shoes Will strolled into the limited living room of his temporary home. The small furnished apartment instead of a cheap hotel suggested they expected a longer stay than he’d packed for and had him silently creating a list of supplies he’d be needing if this was expected to last more than a week or two.

Leaving his bags by the love seat pretending to be a couch for Will began to explore the small apartment provided. The kitchen was attached to the living room and almost formed an open L for its setting. It was completely open with no dividing wall between it and the sitting area, making it more a kitchenette with its main form of divider the change in flooring from hardwood to tile. Consisting of a fridge, stove, sink and enough counter space to put in either a coffee perk or toaster and still have enough room to make a sandwich, but he’d have to choose.

“Coffee.” Will decided, there was no competition, especially while he was dealing with jet lag, he could bend a coat hanger and use that to make toast over the burner if he really wanted some.

The living room, he noted, was plain. Side table, lamp, ugly rug, old cube TV on a small stand and a coffee table; the only real table in the whole place meaning he would either be taking his meals out or in the living room. Coming off said living room were two doors, both side by side and he had a pretty good idea about each. The one closest to the kitchen turned out to be his bedroom, a twin sized bed, side table with lamp and desk was provided. He didn’t see a dresser and given the cramped space presumed that it had more to do with not having the room to place one rather than anything else. He would just store his clothes in his suitcase and make good use of the closet.

Abandoning that room he found the bathroom. Toilet, mirror, sink and standing shower. There were some shelves next to the glass stall he assumed were meant to store his amenities and towels.

As he had been expecting a hotel Will hadn’t thought to pack his own towels or bedding and was tired enough not to care. Returning to the bedroom Will fell onto the bare mattress, digging his keys and phone from his pocket to drop onto the night stand. A blinking light on his phone made him pause long enough to unlock it and check for messages.

One missed call from Hannibal, judging by the time he must have missed it with all the commotion of getting his luggage. Without even thinking about it he dialed through and was answered before the end of the second ring.

“Hello Will,” Sudden memories of lips against his own came flooding back to mind as he listened to that quiet curl of accent around his name, polite and pleased despite whatever ungodly hour it might be back home. “Shouldn’t you be asleep? I don’t suppose you got much rest while on the flight.”

“You called.” It was his only argument; he was too tired for anything else.

There was a quiet hum, it might have been contemplation, it could have been a chuckle, Will didn’t really care. It was smooth and deep and had him closing his eyes as he listened to that deep voice speak to him from nearly five thousands of miles away. “I called you nearly three hours ago, are you only just getting settled in your room William?”

“Will.” He mumbled the correction on impulse, “Yeah, Jack’s friend wanted to meet me before I was coherent enough to remember his name.”

“I see,” There was a growing mirth in that voice lulling Will to sleep, he wondered if maybe Hannibal knew he was drifting away on the tides of his voice. “Can I inquire what hotel you are staying in? I’ll be sure to call your room phone next time.”

“No hotel,” he had to fight to stop the yawn, to keep himself aware enough to answer. “They gave me a furnished apartment, but no bedding…no…nothing…”

When Will awoke several hours later it was to the sounds of footsteps from the apartment above him and to darkness from the night sky outside. “Shit,” He quietly cursed himself, once again checking the small flashing light of his phone and unlocking it to find a text message waiting for him.

_”Sweet dreams Will.”_

Three simple words and it had his heart all a flutter, as if he were some pre-pubescent teen dealing with their first crush and not a full grown man being flirted with by his not-quite psychiatrist and friend.

Still feeling exhausted but forcing himself to get up Will found the lamp light and made a second round of the apartment he’d been gifted as he tried to distract himself from thoughts of a man too far away and sitting right under his skin. To his relief, apart from the need for dishes, utensils, towels and linen, the place wasn’t bad. The furniture was moderately comfortable and nothing seemed to be falling apart.

That did however still leave the problem of not having dishes, utensils, towels or linen. There was also a distinct lack of any food and most importantly coffee. Knowing he needed his life’s blood if he was to survive more than one night in town Will dug a light jacket from his bag found his wallet and set out on a mission for a kettle, instant coffee and a mug. The rest could wait until he found a hypermarket of some kind, day light and free time.

Stepping out into the night Will walked the streets as if he were a local out with a purpose and not the easy target tourist that he was. Keeping his eyes ahead of him with the occasional flic to take in his surroundings Will made careful note of everything from the street signs to the people passing him by as he strolled down the late evening roads. The clock on his stove had told him it was past nine, leaving Will to hope that Bucharest had the equivalent of a twenty-four hour Target close by.

Despite the circumstances to have brought him there Will had to admit that Bucharest was turning out to be a rather charming city. It was a blend of modern and sixteenth century architecture with developing and decrepit buildings mixed in through the chic and shambling city. It was beautiful and Will found with his empathy he was able to lose himself in that chaos of it all, loving everything from the color splashed walls of graffiti squat buildings to the towering gothic cathedrals they were tucked up against.

Where ever the police department had decided to place him, despite the small accommodations, it was next to a very intriguing part of town with quite the night life scene. As Will wondered farther away from his little apartment he found the streets becoming busier and busier with people searching out bars, clubs, restaurants and late night cafés that seemed to decorate the street in an endless strip of tourist attractions. It made him feel better that at least if he’d be fine for food and coffee until he found that hypermarket.

All those good feeling fell away when Will stopped with the sound of something that should not have been there. It was a noise he knew from training and had his stomaching dropping and his hand reaching for a fire arm that wasn’t there. Hand frozen where his holster should have been, would have been if he’d been home, Will slowly turned his head to look down the alley he should have kept walking by, the man standing above a body with a gun and silencer pressed to the back of a now very dead man’s head slowly rising to whisper to his partner as the pair regarded Will with far more attention than he’d been wanting.

“El ne vede?” Where the muttered words of one as he slipped the gun out of sight.

“Ia-l.” Was the quiet response from the other as he started towards Will, “Domnul?” Will didn’t need his empathy to know what was coming next. He bolted.

Cursing Jack as he ran Will wished he had fought for more time to research the area he’d been shifted to. He didn’t know the emergency numbers, didn’t know the language and didn’t know where the hell he was going, only that he had to run and he couldn’t stop.

“Vino dracu inapoi!” A hand catching the collar of his jacket reinforced that decision, Will quickly shrugged out of the cheap polyester coat and shoving a pair of pedestrians to the side as he raced to escape, more foreign words calling out after him as his feet pounded the pavement. “Futu-ți pizda mă-tii!”

Not wanting to learn the meaning of anything being cursed at him and desperate for an escape Will took note of the only half secure looking building on the long stretch of street mostly featuring late night cafés and restaurants. It was a club, the blazing name Ouroboros with the iconic symbol of a snake eating its tail lit up over a set of double doors and a line up waiting to get in. What he cared about were the bouncers who might miss him running through but wouldn’t miss the pair of men following after.

When the doors opened for a pair of young men Will hurtled the rope and knocked the pair over pushing past into the night club. He knew one of the bouncers might chase him into the bar, they would definitely be notifying security to grab him once he was inside, but there was no way they were going to miss grabbing the next set of men trying to race in after him.

Will didn’t stop, didn’t dare until he could lose himself in the inner crowd or find his way to a back door. Hell he’d take a bathroom window and crawl out into the streets if he had to, but he couldn’t walk out the same way he’d come, they’d be waiting for him.

Running past the coat check and dodging more hands Will flew down a set of stairs to find himself lost in an ocean foreign to anything he’d been lost in before.

It was in a gentleman’s club.

Surrounded by half naked women serving drinks and strippers on stage making good use of the runways and polls Will swallowed hard enough to hear his throat click and pushed on through the crowd, grabbing a drink from a nearby table in passing to once again try to look like this was some place where he belonged.

Steps faltering he damn near dropped that bottle when he caught sight of a familiar face. Strong jaw and cut cheek bones framed by the fall of loose ashen hair that surrounded a face all too foreign to the usually somber look that graced it. Deep set maroon eyes were framed by the creases of laugh lines too deep to belong to Hannibal and a smile too carnal to ever belong on the doctor’s inscrutable face. It wasn’t Hannibal, he knew it as much from the man’s face as he knew from the obnoxious pale blue dachshund printed retro bowler shirt and bottled beer he tilted to his lips in a casual swig.

Those deep set maroon eyes turned up to meet stormy blue just as a pair of hands finally grabbed him, making him drop his stolen bottle at the unexpected contact and draw more attention of those intense maroon eyes to take him in with another pull from his beer.

He only met those eyes for a second before the men had him twisting away and back towards the door he’d come from, but it was long enough to have him seeing three things in those strange bloody eyes, a color he’d never thought he’d see more than once in his life. Surprise, familiarity and all the intensity of fir, it was as if the stranger knew him.

“Hey, what seems to be the problem?” Was called out after them, the men barely moving Will two steps before stopping to regard the man lounging on the couch like a large lazy cat, spread across the crescent moon shaped seat as if he owned it.

The men turned around, Will in hand to regard the uncanny man addressing them, it gave Will another chance to take him in. He did own the place, or if he didn’t he was close enough to the man who did that these guys were ready to take orders. “He forced his way in.”

“I witnessed a murder and ran into the first half secure building on the block. The pair know I saw them they’re chasing me.” The rest was self-explanatory. Everyone knew what happened to witnesses when they got caught. “I just want to leave through the back door.”

Finishing his beer the man plucked a half-finished smoke from a nearby ashtray and dropped the bottle on the table for a busser to worry about later. “Leave him with me.” He announced, taking a long drag from the half-finished smoke, “I’ll take care of him.” The words came out in a cloud of silver, the pair releasing Will without question as they were easily dismissed.

“Thanks.” Will didn’t meet those eyes again, his sight focusing on the glowing cherry of the cigarette caught between thin lips he’d seen a thousand times before. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re not from around here.” Those lips pulled into a grin far too broad and foreign to be anything Hannibal. “But you looked at me as if you knew me, so you must be a friend of my brothers.” He extended a casual hand, gripping Will’s with calloused fingers and a firm shake, “Nigel Lecter, at your service.”

That friendly hand shake turned into a friendly arm around his shoulder as Nigel began to lead him away from the crescent shaped couch he’d been sipping beer on to weave through the crowed of men getting lap dances and women filling drinks. “Will.” He offered his own name, regarding the new man, “Hannibal’s never mentioned you before.” Will said, trying to keep track of where they were going.

“We don’t discuss family. Family is private, chalked up there with religion and politics.” They came to a door and Nigel opened it, leading Will down a hallway filled with private rooms and less than legal whoring happening behind closed doors. He was starting to feel sick walking with Nigel down the narrow dark hallway, girls getting ready in some of the dressing rooms peeking out from behind their doors to see who was being lead out their private exit.

Pushing open a heavy metal door he imagined didn’t have a handle on the other side they walked out into the street where Will at last pulled away from the arm wrapped around him, stepping away from the man invading his personal space only to hear the buzz of a bullet passing his ear. It had him diving back into that man and back behind the thick metal door.

On his ass with Will in his lap and not really minding it other than the loss of his cigarette Nigel narrowed his eyes at the old dented metal door, letting the slighter man climb off him as it slowly swung shut. “They’re waiting for you,” He stayed on the ground, watching as shadows came into sight under the door just as it made to close. He drove his foot into the metal slamming the heavy piece back into the man approaching behind it, the sound of one hitting the other and two hitting the ground had Nigel on his feet and outside in a hot second, grabbing one by the head and taking that door in hand to slam it home again before planting his foot in the other man’s temple.

They wouldn’t be moving for a bit.

He looked back at Will, the profiler taking in the expert violence with a tight jaw and knowing eye. Nigel liked having those eyes on him. He liked that he was making them look, making them see him, drinking in him and only him.

It was exactly what he’d wanted for a very, very long time.

Pointed to a black Hyundai he drove another kick home for good measure, pleased to see Will taking the hint and heading for the car without too much of a push. He followed after him on quick feet, fishing keys from his picket to unlock the doors with the press of a button. He liked watching Will slid into his Accent, liked the way he looked strapped into his car waiting for him to come start her up and drive them home.

Nigel climbed into the car and turned the engine, locking the doors with the flick of a switch and loving modern technology for all its little convinces as he floored the gas in time to hear a bullet missing his baby and a startled sound from Will as he grabbed hold of the seat.

If Nigel had his way, and he always did, Will would be making a lot more of those little noises for him very, very soon.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are being lulled to sleep by Hannibal's voice, your comments are piling into the back seat with Nigel.
> 
>  
> 
> Translations
> 
> El ne vede? = He see us?  
> Ia-l. = Get him.  
> Domnul = Sir or Mr.  
> Vino dracu inapoi! = Get the hell back here!  
> Futu-ți pizda mă-tii! = Fuck your mothers cunt! (It’s a common curse for Romanians)


	5. Whiplash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack calls Hannibal for a favor.
> 
> Nigel takes Will home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say 'sorry I'm late' but I don't schedule for updates so it's not so much late as having taken too fucking long for me to find the time to get around to and post. 
> 
> I'm sorry about that darlings, this chapter gave me some serious writers trouble debating on whether to pursue the smut or make you all wait another half dozen chapters. Anyway I felt guilty for the long wait so enjoy some alcohol and poor decisions. C:
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been patiently waiting and everyone who has left a comment, it really means the world to me~<3 <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> ALSO!! I'm running a drabble contest. So if you like my writing and would like a chance to win a Hannibal story written by me of whatever you want check out the contest. http://archiveofourown.org/works/1809070
> 
> Now onto the story~<3
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not Beta Read.

Baltimore, Maryland 2:57pm

 

Thin curls of cedar landed neatly on the square of tissue laid upon the killer’s desk, graphite dust falling in a fine powder to scatter amongst the shavings.

A razors edge was so much more efficient for exacting a point for his sketches than that of a cheap plastic sharpener, and the Ripper would use nothing less than the best when recreating the image of his sweet William.

His falling angel.

So many people saw him as a fragile thing of easily chipping body and mind, something breakable and delicate. They didn’t see the monster lurking beneath his skin, the creature made of shadows, teeth and jagged claws hungry for blood and looking to get out.

As freewill had been present in men if only waiting to be awoken by the knowledge of the apple of eden Will held all the darkness of a killer waiting to be awoke with the blood of his own first kill. He only needed a push, the gentle hand of someone who could help guide him to his becoming.

Hannibal was the serpent to tempt Will into greatness; William was Eve listening to his poison laced words of honey and nectar.

“My darling boy,” he let the curl of a smile pull his lips, staring into the skittish eyes that so rarely met his own, “You must be feeling so abandoned right now, so very truly alone lost away in the heart of Bucharest without your friends or your dogs to keep you company.” He touched a pencil line to the curve of lip, making the bow an alluring kiss swollen swell, “Nothing but the chaos of your mind and the memory of a kiss.” He would have followed him if he could do so without drawing too much unwanted attention. They were not dating, this only the beginning of the romance he was planting within Will’s mind. People would question Hannibal’s sudden abandonment of his life and his practice to follow a man he had no established romantic connection with onto a case he had not been recruited for and would not be receiving any pay or reimbursement for his time or expense.

It had forced his hand to keep him home and watch his William leave, but that hardly removed the piece from the board, only placed it in remission while he worked with what remained into another deceiving play.

The completion of his sketch, an image of his fair William, shoulders and head, staring back at him but past him with the intensity of realization and awaking, a bite of apple missing from the fruit in his hand, was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone across the flat of his desk. He was eagerly anticipating Will’s next call, for the man to be longing and lonely and desperate to hear his voice and the sound of something familiar again. For him to lull him to sleep each night until he could no longer rest without the sound of Hannibal’s smooth accented voice in his ear.

He was instead disappointed to see thee call coming from Jack.

“Good afternoon Jack,” Though his voice spoke with his promise of his full attention his mind wondered elsewhere, following the stroke of his hands as he focused graphite and charcoal on the light and dark of lines for a face that belonged in marble and stone.

“I assume you know of Will’s departure to Bucharest.” Jack said matter of fact; he didn’t wait for the doctor’s reply, “So you should already have an idea what this call is about.” He sounded desperate, as though the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under his feet and he were now grasping for straws.

Hannibal stilled his pencil, laying the number six down as he leaned back in his chair to give the agent his full attention as gears turned and pieces slowly moved across the board. “I would like you to look at a murder for me. I need a profile.”

OoOoO

Sector 3, Bucharest 9:57pm

 

“Where are we going?” Will asked trying not to sound like the fear of sudden death by brick wall was gripping him as he watched his life flash before his eyes.

The man couldn’t drive, at least not in any legal capacity. He would have felt safer riding the Goliath at Six Flags strapless than where he sat with Nigel behind the wheel. It reinforced that he desperately needed to research a few things regarding Bucharest as soon as he found time and a half reliable internet connection.

“Back to my place,” Nigel answered as though they were taking a lazy cruise from the beach and not speeding down the unkept streets of sector three that would be their future deaths. “Would you rather I take you to yours?” he looked at Will with a smile made for sharks and players, calm and collected with all the charm of a cat with a canary.

Though his preference would have been his own location to the unknown of this stranger Will couldn’t remember where he was staying. Being dropped off while under the heavy influence of jet lag hadn’t left his memory working at its full capacity. He hadn’t even bothered opening the folder containing his new address, having left the house with full intentions of finding a coffee perk and retracing his steps home. That plan had flown out the window the moment as he’d started to run.

So whether Will liked it or not he would be spending the night at Nigel’s. “Your place is fine,” He closed his eyes as they made a turn, praying to anyone that would listen his next breath not be his last. The drop of his stomach and swing of the ass end told him they fishtailed turning a corner as the wheels drove over the curb before coming to a surprisingly smooth stop.

Will opened his eyes to see a parking lot, the car sitting about half a foot from a brick wall that had him swallowing bile. “Was any of that legal?” Will tried not to trip getting out of the car and fought the urge to kiss solid ground. He’d walk to work tomorrow.

“The best part is that it was.” Nigel grinned, dropping the butt of his cigarette to crush under foot as he looked to Will like he was the most alluring piece of ass in the city.

It made Will turn from the man to the concrete as he tried not to shuffle under the intensity of his stair. “Our driving is vastly different,” He retorted instead, “much safer.”

The bad man chuckled in response, “Yeah, Hanni doesn’t care for my driving either. I don’t suggest getting a car if you can’t keep up though darling, that’s how it is on all the streets here.”

That thought didn’t have Will feeling any safer as he followed Hannibal’s double through a pair of secured doors and up to the third floor. It was a brick building, one of the older ones if Will had to guess, but the interior had been modernized, it looked as though the building had been gutted to a historical shell and remodeled, filling it with a new staircase and small elevator against the back wall.

In an odd blend of old and new the building was somewhere between beautiful and gaudy. The ancient walls had been slapped with a coat of fresh paint while the windows fashioned in a style no longer produced had been polished to a crystal shine. It sat in direct contrast to the metal stairwell with cheap rubber lining for better traction.

He doubted that the building would have met Hannibal’s elite standards, but the strange contract appealed to Will. It reminded him a little of his old farm house, the same foundation and old building with a handful renovations made to keep the house standing worn but good condition.

Nigel’s apart was a whole other story. Nearly a storey and a half in height it was designed with an open concept that had its rooms separated by the change in flooring instead of walls. There was only one door, Will assumed it led to the bathroom, while the kitchen was marked with polished marble that changed into espresso wood flooring for the rest. An accent rug spread beneath the sofa and chair marked the living room where a spiral staircase behind the couch led to a loft above that could be nothing else but the bad man’s bedroom.

Everything looked on the fresher side of new and high enough on the spectrum to be considered expensive. Plush leather couches in ox blood red he knew he would easily sink into and real marble countertops of black streaked with gold. It was nothing like Hannibal’s sophisticated style, yet still carried the similar taste of bold masculine colors and quality.

“Make yourself at home.” Nigel said as he toed off his shoes and threw his jacket over the back of a stool chair at the kitchen island. There was no actual table present within the home, Will could easily see this man taking his meals on the go at one of the local restaurants or cafes, the island serving its purpose for anything simple he might take at home. Nigel wasn’t setting out a three course dinner for anyone, another big step away from Hannibal to mark the brother as his own.

Following example Will toed off his sneakers and draped his jacket over the back of another chair, following Nigel into the kitchen as he filled two thick bottomed tumblers with amber liquor and left a half-finished bottle of Glenfiddish on the counter. Will counted another similarity between the twins, they both liked good liquor. Though this one seemed to prefer the harder variety to Hannibal’s refined pallet of wines, it suited Will fine. He needed a drink. “Why did you help me?” Will ventured, accepting the glass to take a slip and then a swallow. The night had been too damn long to be playing nice with drinking etiquette.

The abuse of the good liquor had Nigel following suit, downing his own in two swallows and topping them off before taking his drink and bottle to the couch. “You looked as though you could use a hand.”

“You don’t care about that.” Will challenged, already regretting the words as they left his mouth. It was never clever to bite that hand that fed you and in Will’s case it was the hand that had saved his ass, brought him home and was giving him good liquor. He downed the rest of his scotch before he could say anything else stupid and found the man leaning over to offer a refill.

Will wasn’t about to refuse.

“You’re cruel.” He elaborated further, winning no points in his favor but not seeming to insult the man either. Nigel was wearing an almost amused expression as he drank his pricy scotch with deep swallows instead of the savoring sips it deserved. “I saw that in how you handled those thugs. You were brutal, timed, accurate. You enjoyed it.” Will watched his faded reflection distort in ripples of amber and whiskey rocks wondering what he had seen in him to make him want to save him.

Nigel could hardly contain his delight at the accurate telling of his character. Hanni hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his William was a gift. He had read him like a book and he’d barely even peeked behind the curtain. It made Nigel want him all the more, to throw him down and see what he could find hidden within those elusive stormy eyes when they were forced to focus on him in clouded unrelenting pleasure. He wanted to ruin him until Will knew nothing else but Nigel. “You keep saying pretty things like that and I’ll be taking you to bed.”

The carnal look he’d seen in the parking lot was back, the bad man more than a little serious in his offer of a shared bed for the night. It was something Will was than familiar to being on the other end of.

“That’s just your excuse,” Will countered, “You’re already interested.”

“You read all that with one little look?” He took another swallow.

Will shrugged, swirling his glass to ruin the reflection staring back at him before taking a swig. It was good, better than what he usually drank and probably ruining his pallet for the cheap swill he kept back home. “I work as a profiler for the FBI. It’s my job to look that’s why I’m here.”

Bingo. That was everything he’d needed to know. Hannibal had been sending him a warning to lie low so he wouldn’t get caught, but he was also trying to force Nigel to take a vacation from his home while Will would be well within reach. His brother knew him so well. Of course Nigel would take the offered opportunity to look into the man he’d heard so much about but could never touch and never see thanks to an ocean between them.

He could touch now.

He fully intended to.

“Do you think I’m a bad man?” Nigel pressed, finishing his third glass and encouraging Will to do the same. Strong liquor helped loosen tongues and he wanted Will’s loose, his tongue and his pants.

“I know you’re a bad man.” Will offered, “But I don’t know what for and I don’t want to know. I’m friends with your brother.” He wasn’t interested in stirring up bad emotions between them or anyone else, for all he knew it was Nigel’s life choices that led to Hannibal’s silence on his other half.

The comment earned him a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Like I said before, you looked at me as if you knew me. But as I’ve never met you before the look had to be for Hanni.” Hadn’t met him, but he knew him. “He talks about you a lot,” He topped off Will’s glass since the profiler was taking his damn sweet time in finishing it, “One of his favorite subjects.”

That earned a look, one for being a regular topic of conversation and another for the mention of regular contact. He wasn’t cutting ties then, just quiet on the subject of family. “He talks about me? In our conversations he’s never mentioned you.” He glanced to the more than half filled glass, more amused than offended at the blatant attempt to get him drunk. If Nigel thought Will was a light weight he was in for a hell of a surprise, after years of working on gut rot with cheap liquor to cope with his empathy and nightmares it was going to take more than a couple of drinks. He almost hoped the man had another bottle, the scotch was good and if he was out to get him drunk Will would happily drink him out of house and home for his efforts.

“He wouldn’t, neither would I. Family is private. I think there might be a photo of me in one of his sitting rooms.” He shrugged, unbothered by the idea of being left an unknown within his brother’s life. “You’ll find the same here, I’ve got a picture of us in the back of a book and a couple of sketches folded on a table.” One he was happy he hadn’t decided to frame now that the muse was sitting before him.

“What has he told you about me?” Will debating nursing the rest of his glass, he was still suffering the time change and hadn’t eaten in hours. He doubted adding alcohol to that mess was going to help him adjust. It was the responsible thing to do.

On the other hand his day had been above and beyond shitty. He took two deep swallows of the drink and realized that his alcohol tolerance only counted for so much on no sleep and an empty stomach. He finished the glass anyway and left it on the table.

“That you’re the world’s unluckiest bastard.” He chuckled, “You get to see everything this shitty planet has to offer and all the people in it. Whether you want to or not.” He tossed back his own to match and leaned back on the sofa to let the warmth of well-aged scotch fill his middle. It was a good feeling, especially when his company was an alcohol flushed Will.

It was a far more accurate description than Will had been expecting, Nigel’s admittance to his ‘gift’ being a negative thing both an insult and refreshing change. Though given his own honest admittance on the man across from him, he really didn’t have much room to talk on rude description. “You don’t sound impressed by my empathy.”

“I wouldn’t wish that curse on anyone darling. Who wants to see everyone else’s dirty laundry?” It didn’t take a genius to realize that no one wanted their darkest secrets read. He could only imagine the trouble Will had to suffer finding a date. No one wanted their partner to know that they were faking an orgasm and generally people wanted their bed mate to meet them in the eye. His William was lacking more than a little on the latter. Pair that with his socially awkward tendencies and Nigel could easily see Will going a hand full of years between lays.

“You’d be the first.” His grin was humorless.

“I really shouldn’t be.” Strong fingers curled beneath his chin, tilting Will’s head to force skittish blue-grey eyes to meet the man across from him. There was a hungry look within those sanguine depths, a deep swirling want that Will was anything but used to seeing directed at him. “You suffer from it, visually, and people take advantage of you for it. They push you until you’re broken and then the bastards push more.” The space between them was closing, the bad man shifting across smooth leather with the hiss of sliding denim. “Thoughtless cunts take advantage of you darling.” They were a breath apart, thin lips ghosting over his own and Will couldn’t tear his eyes from the wanting pair that bore into him, “What’s worse is that you let them.”

The kiss was nothing like Will had expected. The firm press of lips like a fiery passion against his as broad hands circled his waist to pull him against a surprisingly hard body. Will gasped into the kiss as he was lifted to straddle legs, spreading his wide around Nigel’s firm thighs as a hand slipping from waist to ass, cupping him with groping fingers.

It had Will feeling like a teenager again, all alcohol and poor decisions as he opened his mouth to let the bad man delve inside, tasting of expansive booze and cheap cigarettes as Will ground down against him. Nigel’s groan rumbled through him and he felt his cock twitch.

It felt good to be wanted, to feel the slid of hands under his shirt to ghost up his back and shoulders well the push of a swelling cock pressed against him with grinding hips.

Will couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had sex, if he were to be completely honest it had been more than a couple of years and he really didn’t want to remember the awkward morning after that had followed after. He’d never seen her again and it had been the deciding factor that led him to believe that Will Graham simply wasn’t meant to date.

At some point Will’s belt had been loosened, he knew he hadn’t done it since his fingers were busy trying to decipher Nigel’s shampoo by though touch. But his belt was gone and the bad man was holding his ass with a firm grip only barely separated by the thinnest layer of cotton.

He felt fingers ran the cleft of his ass and it had him pulling back. Memories of thin lips identical to Nigel’s pressing in a gentle kiss against his mouth had guilt swelling up inside and Will pushing the bad man back. “Sorry, no.” He hated himself for doing it.

Nigel didn’t seem offended, “You`ve never taken cock before?” or deterred. His hand remained firmly cupping Will’s ass, face but a breath away. “You’re not straight.” His eyes drew down to settle on the stiffening cock pressing into his stomach.

“I’m questioning,” Will corrected with what he felt to be the closest term to accurate for his sexuality at that moment, he wasn’t really sure where he stood in that spectrum anymore. More than a little attracted to women and what they had to offer, Alana was proof enough of that, he’d always thought himself straight until Hannibal kissed him.

Until Alana had introduced them.

“That’s not questioning darling that’s an erection and there is nothing effeminate about me to be causing it.” He drew Will a little further up, letting the bulge of his own swollen cock press into the profiler’s ass. Will had to admit it was more than a little impressive. “Are you feeling nervous?” the hand beneath his shirt ghosted along his spin, making Will arch into him, press harder against the cock beneath him to make Nigel groan. “I promise to be gentle.” The idea of being his first male encounter had him eager enough to push him over and take him on the couch.

Will was about to ruin everything and he didn’t want to, he liked this. He liked this strange man with a familiar face and the sense of being wanted. “I’ve kissed your brother.” He admitted ducking his head. He didn’t want to see whatever look of disgust Nigel would be wearing for the offered bit of truth.

“Is that what this is about?” Will found himself surprised when a mouth sought out his own again in stolen kisses instead. “You’ve been sleeping with my brother and now you’re feeling guilty that you’ve cheated?”

He met the next quick kiss and found himself focusing on a cocky smile when he was done, they could have been dating and Nigel didn’t care. He just wanted Will. “We’re not seeing each other,” He clarified, “he’s only kissed me once, just before I got on the plane. That doesn’t bother you?”

Kissed him before he got on the plane, his brother really was a manipulative dick, “Not at all gorgeous. The way I see it, it’s only a kiss. Nothing to feel guilty about, you’re not dating, you’re not fucking, you’re not cheating.”

“You don’t care?” Will would never claim to be well versed with the ins and outs of relationships but he was sure there was something not okay about kissing one twin and fucking the other.

“That’s what I said. And Hanni shouldn’t either. You’re not dating? He had no right to be jealous.” Nigel coaxed Will’s drunken mind with a silver tongue that would have been better suited for lawyers and used car sales men. “If he really wanted you darling, he should have been doing something about it long before you were sent packing to Bucharest. That’s just him being a selfish prick, planting termites in your brain to eat away at your consciousness and keep you all for himself.” He caught his lip, sucking it into his mouth to nip with teeth as truth settled with the profiler. “You’ll spend your whole trip here with thoughts of him and an unexplained kiss flittering through your mind until you get back to America and he’s all you can think of, all you want.”

He captured Will’s mouth with his own, easing him back against the couch as they indulged in slow thoughtful kisses, the profilers mind moving a mile a minute as Nigel’s focused on their state of dress.

“You think he’s manipulating me?” Will’s brow furrowed, he was too tired for this. Too damn drunk to be thinking about the ins and outs of psychology when he had a very willing, very attractive man pushing the two day flannel shirt from his shoulders to map the planes of his chest with his mouth.

“I grew up with the bastard. I know he’s manipulating you.” He caught a nipple and felt Will’s breath hitch as he arched into him.

“You’re manipulating me.” Will gasped, finger tangling through silver streaked blond as he felt the sensitive skin nipped and sucked.

Nigel hummed his response, moving farther down the lithe cream skinned body of the man who’d been haunting his thoughts for nearly a year. “Is it manipulation if you know that I’m doing it?”

Will wanted more scotch. He didn’t want to feel guilty about this. He wanted to feel good and enjoy a fuck for once in his life. “Yes.” He answered because his mind refused to shut off.

“Then I guess I’m as bad as Hanni.” He licked his lips meeting eyes with Will as he tasted him on his tongue. “I’m just more forward about it.”

His button popped with the flick of a thumb and the fly of Will’s khaki’s slid free, hand slipping beneath the hem of his pants to drag course material down hips and legs in the best strip show Nigel had seen to date. This was William, his William and the flesh of his body lay willing beneath his hands. The same hands that followed the path of skin made bare trail the curve of calf and thigh to dip at the contour of his hip, setting finger and thumb on the elastic of Will’s briefs.

Will wished he’d thought to shower and change before he’d left. “I want to fuck you darling, is that alright?” He leaned in kiss the jumping flesh of his lower belly, lick from the line of elastic to the dip of his navel and capture the salty taste of skin on his tongue. “I want to feel you all around me when I bring you to your peak and fill you until you burst.” Sanguine met blue and Will had never felt more wanted in his life. “Can I have that darling? Can I have you?”

“I’ve been on a plane for two days and haven’t had a chance to shower or change.” Will admitted, it wasn’t romantic, but he never was.

Nigel ducked his head to catch the flesh of Will’s thigh in a biting kiss, blood stained earth locked with storm cast blue as he made sure Will watched him suck a mark into his flesh with nipping teeth and carnal desire. “Is that a yes?”

“Do you have a condom?” His look alone could have made Will cum.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are posing for sketches, your comments are jumping from the loft to bounce on the sofa.
> 
> The author is hiding in the trunk from her readers and trying not to throw up from the ride.


	6. Starry Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal does stuff, the boys bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Meggo Muffin for figuring out what throw away from another story this one is based on. ;D Thank you for reading the other Lecter Brothers works. C:
> 
> This is late coming because life happened. If it’s written as crap its because I haven’t slept right in three weeks. It's posted now instead of sometime tomorrow for the same reason.
> 
> There is gore stuff in this chapter. You’ve been warned. 
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

It was as though he had stepped into his dear William’s mind to sample his special blend of madness, witnessing the art of chaos first hand that was slowly destroying his brilliant mind to build a chrysalis for Hannibal to whisper dark words into.

The killer had skinned her, cutting the flesh around ankles, hands and throat with long drawn lines sliced down her calves and spine in an attempt to peel the hide away in a single sheet. With his keen eye he could see where the killer had faltered, the extra incisions that would have been needed to make their attempt a success.

Instead they’d been forced to stop in their peeling to make additional strokes with a knives sharp edge to peel the flesh away.

He could tell just by looking at the bared bone and muscle that remained the skin suit had torn. Their killer would be displeased that such efforts had been for nothing, their prize ruined with the unsightly tears.

They would be trying again.

“Is it the Ripper?” Jack asked and he almost wanted to laugh. Though the woman had been left on display it was hardly anything as artistic as what Hannibal would have created. She had been hung for convenience sake and left for the same reason, nothing more. What he created was art.

“No, the victim still retains all of her internal organs. The Ripper is better known for their medical knowledge and trophies. This woman was taken apart with without that knowledge and left whole otherwise.” Many of the incisions were too crude in his opinion, the wrong tool for the job. “This is a first,” They were only learning, still working on perfecting the methods of their design, searching for the best way to remove flesh whole while keeping the pig alive.

The skin fresh.

“But it will not be the last. They’re trying to create a flesh suit,” He pointed with a latex glove, following an incision to have passed over their spine, “With as few cuts to the hide as possible. They want the flesh flawless, whole.”

Jack followed his line of sight to the incisions directed. “You think that our killer is trying to make a suit? You think that they’re going to wear this girl?” He tried to clarify, not wanting the truth to be as gruesome as he knew it was.

Hannibal nodded, “Yes, I believe that our killer is trying to make something to wear. I also believe that due to the incisions here and here, they discovered they had not taken full consideration of the difficulty in peeling the skin from another human being.” It was far easier to harvest the organs, though he had followed a similar procedure once before in the past. His had been successful. “They would have torn the skin,” he indicated another slice, “Making this particular suit unflattering to them, they will discard this as a failure and try again.”

Jack seemed more than a little disturbed; Hannibal was finding it all rather interesting. Their killer thought themselves a transsexual and was trying to create the body they thought they deserved. Chances were that the individual had already sought therapy, possibly denied their sex change or lacking the funds to do so, ultimately forcing their hand.

He wondered if Will would have seen the same. “Would it be alright if I sent a few photo’s to Will? Discussed a theory for a second opinion?” He slipped the latex from his hands, folding one inside the other to drop into a bin.

“Be my guest.” He had been debating sending Will a copy of the case and photo’s anyway, having the doctor do it only made Jack look better for not having been the one to bother Will. “Will’s become a bit of an old hand at this. He might be able to pick up a few things to add to your profile.”

“The only profile I can offer for you at this time is that our killer is a transsexual. He is a she and she will be needing her victims the same size as the one before us. She needs her clothes to fit.” Slipping his phone from his pocket Hannibal took his time gathering a number of pictures to closer examine at his leisure later on, as well as send to Will.

It was an excellent excuse to call his missing profiler.

OoOoO

Will lifted his hips, feeling the slid of cotton over his ass as the last of his clothing was stripped away, broad hands gliding over bare flash in wake of the thin cloth. He was already hard enough to have his cock bobbing to stand as the waistband slid free, the length of hardened flesh standing to Nigel’s attention to be appraised by the bad man’s lascivious stare. “Even better than I imagined.” He kissed Will’s tip, drawing a gasp from the profiler as he watched his tongue touch his slit. He could feel his cheeks burning as he played witness to the lustful sanguine eyes drinking in his reveal, the last of his clothing slipping down legs and over ankles to fall to the floor.

“You imagine me?” He was already feeling breathless, Nigel was a drug of his own making and Will was becoming an addict.

“With a face like that how couldn’t I?” he drew back up to capture lips instead, hands sneaking behind him to press that beautiful lean body against his own.

Will swallowed, it was thick and dry and he really was too drunk to be doing this with anyone.

Fuck conventionality.

“Should we take this to the bed?” He looked past Nigel, over a broad shoulder to the loft that would be far more comfortable than the leather couch he could already feel his flesh sticking to. He would be peeling himself from it later if they didn’t move.

Nigel looked over his shoulder to the spiral stairs, his hand sliding down the curve of Will’s spine to stroke soft skin and feel muscles jump beneath his fingertips, a devious smile pulling the corner of his mouth as he rose from his darling. “Sure,” he got up, tugging Will to his feet along with him. “More room to play.” The grin was enough to make Will’s cock jump, the thick flesh pressing back against his stomach as something deep in his gut twisted with the hand that touched his back, guiding him up the stairs.

They barely made it half way.

“Nigel?” he squeaked in indignant surprise as an arm like steel caught him around his waist and he was bent over the rail.

A thigh pushed between Will’s own keeping him spread as the bad man leaned over him, “You’re just too damn tempting, did you know that?” Nigel was gifted another choked sound of surprise when he touched a spit slicked finger to Will’s entrance and pushed all the way to the knuckle. It only took a moment to find the little bundle of nerves deep inside that made Will jerk and moan as he stroked against it, “Too damn tempting.”

Feeling fingers dig into his bicep as Will clung to the arm wrapped around him as though Nigel might actually let him fall, anther digit joined the first, pressing deep inside to stroke his prostate until gasps turned to whimpered moans and whimpers to begging screams, his cock weeping with need. “Nigel!” He cried his name again, a plea and a prayer. It fed the live wire that ran though Nigel’s veins with a fire better than the chaos of blood and broken teeth.

He pressed again and felt the whimper of need quiver through his profiler, breath hitching and body shaking with the threat of finding his end before Nigel had the chance to give him a proper fuck.

Withdrawing he urged Will further up the stairs, forcing him forward until legs made weak with pleasure and alcohol reached the top of the stairs, bumping into the foot of the bed for Will to fall on hands and knees, crawling across the plush surface to give Nigel a view of the beautiful ass he was about to be mounting.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Will didn’t’ make it far before Nigel was on top of him, clothes forgotten by the bed as he crawled up after him to catch the quivering profiler by his hips and press the swell of his cock hard against the ass he could hardly wait to fill.

“That was dangerous,” Will scolded with shuttering breaths as Nigel emptied a bottle of lube into his palm and quickly slicked fingers, hips grinding the heavy flesh of his cock to slide against Will’s opening in a tease that had the bad man hissing.

“You weren’t going anywhere.” Nigel chuckled; he’d finally got his hands on him, he wasn’t about to lose Will by dropping him over the railing. He touched a finger to the tight ring of muscles at his opening, circling a finger around the entrance to drag more sweet whimpers to his ears before pressing the finger to his core. Two more joined the first and Will was reeling, wonton cries of wanting like music to the bad man’s ears as he stretched and stroked the beautiful profiler beneath him.

Kiss swollen lips parted and his name was turned to a lewd curse for his darling to scream. A need for lube was all that had saved Will from being fucked good and proper over the railing, at least for their first time together. There would be other days for his profiler to be slicked with spit and oil and whatever else he could find around the house, but for their first time he wanted to make sure the pleasure would be immeasurable and the pain non-existent.

Will was finding it hard to focus with three becoming four inside him in a near constant onslaught on his prostate, his arms quaking with the effort to keep himself up right against the building pleasure making his ache. He pushed back against the hand that filled him, felt the slide of the other over his back as Nigel climbed over him to cage his slightly smaller body with his own. “I think that’s enough of that, don’t you darling?” Lust blown eyes peered over a quaking shoulder to meet with carnal red.

It was everything he’d wanted. The pure attention of those grey eyes made ocean blue with lust focused in their entirety on him. “You’re just too goddamn gorgeous, you know that?” He kissed his shoulder, pushing Will onto his back so he could watch that pretty face contort with pleasure when he pushed inside. He’d hate to waist the view for convenience sake.

“Nigel,” he arched, cock so hard it hurt as he reached for the bad man, wanting desperately for him to fix the ache. Nigel wouldn’t leave him disappointed.

Catching him by the hips he dragged Will down the bed, watching storm colored eyes dance with lightning strikes of lust as he lifted legs to settle over his shoulders and spread, pushing them back to touched the swollen head of his cock to a sodden hole. “Are you ready darling?” The kiss he gave was as hungry as his smile and met with nipping teeth for making the profiler wait.

He wouldn’t wait anymore. Nigel pushed into his tight opening with one slow smooth thrust. Deep maroon eyes locked on stormy blue as he made Will take every inch of him into his body, a pinch to his thigh drawing eyes back to his own when the elusive gems tried to turn away.

Will wouldn’t be hiding from him, not in this. He would hold him by the throat and make him look if that’s what it took to keep those scarce orbs of blue trained on his. He wanted to watch the tides of pleasure wash over him like an ocean and witness the lightning strike of orgasm crash though him when he brought Will to his edge and pushed him over. “Keep your eyes on me gorgeous, I want to see you.”

It seemed as though the command for Will’s full attention was a more difficult request for the profiler than dropping his drawers for a fuck. His sight was already dancing, turning from Nigel’s to his lips and throat before directed back to his eyes with a sudden jerk of the heavy flesh seated within.

“I’m not very good with eyes.” Will admitted breathless to feel anther jerk against the bundle of nerves hidden inside, forcing his eyes open to meet the bad man’s on top.

“I want you to be good with my eyes. Do you think you could do that for me?” He let one leg slide from his shoulder to instead settle at his waist, a hand callused from work Will didn’t want to know coming to gently smooth the curls from his face, fingers carding through hair the color of chocolate.

Will didn’t answer, instead fighting to keep his sight on Nigel as he squirmed beneath him to urge the bad man on. He took the hint, “Thank you darling.” Kissing lips made soft and pliant with too much booze on an empty stomach and unsated lust he pulled his cock to the tip and thrust in to fill him.

The moan of he forced past parted lips was almost enough to make him cum, deep and wanting and all for him. Nigel watched with insatiable greed as the storm raged on in blue-grey skies, their color lost to barely more than a ring around pupils blown wide with lust and pleasure as another cry was forced from lips and his body arched against Nigel’s own.

Hooking his leg around his tapered waist Will wrapped his arms around his chest and buried his face in the crook of the bad man’s neck, gasping against skin in open mouthed kisses and moans with closed eyes against the onslaught.

They opened quick enough with the tug of curls and a harsher thrust, the bad man smiling down at him as though he were the missing wonder of the world, breath hitching and face flushed with each deep thrust of hips burying his thick heavy cock within him.

Deep slow motions rocked their bodies as one, Nigel filling Will to his core to make breaths shutter and body twist as he hit home on the bundle of nerves buried inside again and again. “I want to keep you darling, hold you against me and feel you wrapped around me over and over again,” Every day and every night if he could have him.

He would have him.

Pressing his mouth to kiss swollen gasping lips he drank in the wonton moans that parted them, tasting Will’s debauchery like the slide of wine across his tongue. “I want to do this again with you darling,” He stilled, pressed against his prostate to make his arch, mouth wide and body quivering as he leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth against the silent cry of pleasure, “Say that you will.”

Will was shaking, so close he could barely contain himself, fighting to hold back his end so that Nigel might find his own in closer time. But he knew what he was doing and Will wasn’t sure he could keep himself much longer.

“Ni-gel!” He cried, arching with another press that made his body jerk, breath shuttering as his sight danced over a broad shoulder to focus on the ceiling above, rough fingers gripped his curls at the root, tugging his sight back to focus on Nigel, keeping his eyes trained on maroon almost the color of blood in the faded light of the bedroom.

“You’re so close,” he murmured against whimpering lips, Will’s mind and body overloaded with sensation as he was made to see the pleasure taken from him while feeling the pleasure given through the bad man’s eyes. He was unable to contain himself with so much sensation, arching and gasping against the solid form above. “Cum for me darling,” he commanded with gentle words, kissed with a softness that went against his naturally violent nature and need for blood. He felt like he was on fire, his blood a living thing pumping through his veins as he pushed himself into Will again and again.

He arched, a silent cry parting his lips as he curled his body around him, forehead pressed to Nigel’s so all he could see was greedy red as his climax took him.

All he could see was Nigel, inside and out.

He bit his lip against the strangling grip around his cock and pumped two times more before shuttering with his own end, filling Will with his heat in a flood of possession to his core.

Will bucked against him, vibrating with his lingering pleasure as Nigel pumped his hips with the end of his orgasm. “So fucking good,” he panted, letting Will’s other leg fall from his shoulder to wrap lazy around his waist as he pulled Will into his lap, making the profiler straddle his softening cock.

He knew he was almost a dead weight in the bad man’s arms, letting Nigel guide his movement to wrap lazy arms around his shoulders, his head lulling back for thin lips to suck kisses into his neck and chest. It felt good to feel biting kisses leave a chain of purple and blue around his throat. He knew he should make him stop, that he would ultimately regret his poor decision in the morning, but all he wanted in that moment was to keep feeling good and just let himself have this little piece of something nice for a little while longer.

“You’re possessive.” Will murmured into silver streaked hair, watching the upper level window over a muscular shoulder. “I asked you to wear a condom. You didn’t. You’re marking me inside and out.” He was profiling without even trying, his brain refusing to turn off, his drunken mind moving lips to spill secrets better left unsaid if he ever wanted to do this again. “That marks you as a possessive and dangerous individual to be indulging in any sort of relationship with.”

Broad hands ghosted from shoulder to hips, lifting Will just enough to let his cock slid free, a run of cum and lube trickling from his entrance with it. “Is that so bad?” He looked at the beautiful chain of amethyst he was leaving around Will’s throat like a collar. He liked it almost as much as he would have liked to see his name scrawled out in loops of red and black ink. “I’ll be as loyal to you as I ask you to be for me,” He kissed a bruising mark, “Nothing wrong with that.” He looked at Will to see that those beautiful eyes were once again avoiding his own, the fire gone from them to be replaced with a tired and hazy delight. He was fucked out and content for the moment. Not as angry as maybe he should have been with Nigel for ‘forgetting’ to wear a condom.

If forgetting entailed shoving them out of the way to grab the lube conveniently underneath.

“It’s a problem because I’m not going to stay and I’m bad with relationships.” Will answered back, brow furrowing as he watched something swing a little over the window in the wind.

“Then how about we don’t make it a relationship?” Nigel offered, looking over his shoulder to follow his sight to the shadow outside. “Casual sex is allowed among friends.” He turned back capturing lips in a kiss. “How about we be friends? Drinking buddies who fuck on the side, is that something you can handle while in town?”

Will didn’t have any reason not to. The sex had been good, hell it’d been fucking incredible. He hadn’t been laid in so long it might have been the act of getting off with another human being alone that had him feeling so good. He wanted to do it again. “You’d have no claim on me.” He warned, pulling back to prevent another mark from purpling his skin. “You wouldn’t be allowed to mark me as your own.” A flash of something dangerous passed within those maroon depths, it was bloody and deadly and the made of the nitro Will was trying not to shake. “I’ll only come back if this stays open. No marks, no claims. Casual.” It was Nigel’s offer but he didn’t like the rules being so specifically set against him. It was easier for him to keep Will to himself if he had the right colors showing over his collar.

Marked territory was usually only pursued if it was a hooker at reduced rates. It would be harder to keep Will to himself if he wasn’t allowed to bite. “Sure,” he grinned, all teeth and dark promises making Will shiver, “No more marks.” He kissed the last bruise he would be leaving for a while and looked for eyes that still refused to meet his own. He would have them again, though Will refused to meet his eyes just yet he would have those elusive gems focused on his own soon enough, even if only when Will was screaming his pleasure to the sky.

“So,” the predator in Nigel purred, stealing more kisses from pliant lips, “can I expect to see you tomorrow?” His eyes promised more of the same if he did, the hand squeezing the globe of his ass made sure such intentions were not misinterpreted.

Will felt more semen slip free to run over the bad man’s fingers as the digits fluxed against his flesh. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want more.

He just wanted it with someone else.

“We’ll see how I’m feeling. I’m here to work, that doesn’t mean I’m going to be having a whole lot of free time on my hands in between.” Another slide of shadow over glass and Will’s eyes were back on the window.

“It doesn’t take a lot of time if you’re spending the night.” Nigel grinned, nipping Will’s attention back to him. “But I’ll leave you to come to me if that’s what you’re looking for.” He had enough guys under his thumb to keep an eye on him from a distance, even a couple of cops.

“What is that?” Will pointed to the shadow, needed a distraction as he let emotions settle and new interests find a place within.

Nigel glanced back to his window, letting Will slip from his lap to pull on but not button the jeans he’d discarded earlier. “It’s a rope.” He answered, keeping his head ducked low so not to bump the ceiling as he walked the short distance to the window and slid the glass across, catching a length of thick braided climbing rope to show the curious profiler.

Will furrowed his brow, pulling Nigel’s bowler shirt over his head to cover part of his nudity as he followed. It hung low enough on the slightly smaller male to cover all the good parts just barely and made his cock twitch to see him dressed so casually in one of his t’s. “Why do you have a rope?” Will leaned out the window, looking up to see the braided length stretch onto the flat rooftop.

“Would you like to see?” He did it so smoothly Will wondered if it was a nightly activity, Nigel gripping the rope in one hand to step out the window in bare feet and drag himself over the side in three easy steps. Leaning out the window again he looked up at Nigel who lay on his belly with a hand down for Will to follow suit as the rope settled back within reach. “Grab hold darling, I’ll help you up.”

Looking at the rope and doubting his strength Will eased himself from the widow, gripping the braid with one hand and frame with the other he eased himself to stand. “Probably shouldn’t be doing this drunk.” He complained more to himself as he gripped the rope tighter and reached up to catch the offered hand. He found himself lifted with surprising ease, a display of strength showing Nigel to be much stronger than he looked. Catching the twin by his shoulder and toes on the window frame Will helped ease himself over the ledge.

The rope had been secured around a mooring ring, Nigel having obviously added the anchor to brick rooftop himself. Without an emergency door leading up to the building’s top it left Nigel as the sole occupant with access to the flat surface he’d claimed for his own.

“What made you decide to conquer the roof?” Will asked, he was glad for it though, Bucharest was hot and the cool wind skimming over his sex heated flesh was a welcomed thing. Twenty-twenty hindsight, he wished he’d stolen a pair of Nigel’s pants instead of climbing out the window in a shirt and his birthday suit.

“It gets hot and my windows aren’t the best crafted for air conditioners.” He walked to the center where a large waterproofed chest sat waiting and crouched to play with the dial of its combination lock, popping the lid to retrieve a collection of thick comforters and a roll out mat. “I like to sleep up here when the weathers hot. Good breeze and the views amazing,” Though his eyes were more occupied with Will than the twinkle of city lights. He stood with his back to him, having turned to examine the view Nigel had spoken of without realizing that it was in part him.

Will stood at the edge to stare out over a city as alive in the night as it had been during the day. The bustle of tourists and young people looking for bars and a good time milled the streets to search out night time cafes, pubs and clubs. Will found himself enjoying it right along with them, watching people wonder the streets from the safe secluded distance he held from up top, able to see and feel without all the overwhelming interaction and close proximity.

Silhouetted in the sickly yellow glow of artificial light and dressed in his discarded dachshund shirt Will couldn’t have been more beautiful if he’d tried.

A cool wind laced with car exhaust and chilled night air blew to catch haphazard curls in a halo of unruly frizz around the profilers head, the ringlets rustling over skin still pink from sex and drying sweat as the hem of his shirt shifted to reveal the barest glimpse of a pale round ass leaking trails of semen to cool tacky on his thighs.

A smoldering heat bloomed within his chest, the hot coals turning to licking flames and a raging fire, hot and consuming as the obsessive love he felt toward the man before him. It was in the moment Nigel knew Will would never see his home in Wolf Trap again.

It made him want to take him again right there on the roof, bend him over and fuck him where all of Bucharest could hear his darling scream Nigel’s name into the night. He licked his lips, wetting the chapped skin as he watched the wind lick at sweat slicked skin and cooling cum on his inner legs, watched it lift the tail of his shirt to show the curve of ass he’d already mounted that night. His cock stirred again, the heavy flesh beginning to swell.

It was beautiful, the city lights bright and alive mixed through the darkened towers of ancient buildings and towering cathedrals. Will could easily see how Nigel had fallen in love with a chaotic city like Bucharest from the sanctuary of his rooftop.

The smell of smoke on the wind and a hand on his waist reminded Will he wasn’t alone. The profiler leaning back into the hard body behind him to let the bad man take his weight, the pair looking out to watch the night sky together. “I like this.” Will muttered more to himself. It was surrounding and isolating all at the same time, a private get away for him and the bad man as close to the privacy of Wolf Trap as he was going to find in the city. No one could get him but Nigel and in that moment being caught wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Yeah? Me too.” He kissed the crook of his neck and felt the sweep of an arm reach behind to drape over his shoulder and card through his hair as his hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the hem of his stolen shirt to tease Will’s flaccid cock awake in the open night air.

Hushed gasps and the gentle roll of hips into his hand urged Nigel on as he lifted the smoke he’d retrieved from the same water proofed container as the bed roll with his free hand to take one last draw before tossing it over the edge. He could always have another later, in that moment getting his hands on Will for a second time was worlds away his need for nicotine.

Kissing a cloud of smoke into skin blemished with amethyst marks, Nigel freed his stiffening cock to tease it back erect, one hand working his own as the other dragged gasping moans from the man holding his arm to keep himself upright. “Nigel,” he sighed his name, head lulling back to rest on the bad man’s shoulder as pulses of pleasure traveled like an electric shock to the base of his spin, a pooling of liquid heat building like a volcano waiting to erupt with the coming of his second arousal.

Breaths shaky and legs too weak to hold himself any longer Will found his body sinking to the ground, the harsh brick of the roof digging into the flesh of his knees as he settled with his palms on the roofs edge, their rough surface digging into his palms as he looked out into the night.

“I especially like you Will.” Another smoky kiss pressed into his skin, the heavy flesh of Nigel’s cock pressing back into his darling with ease. He slipped into his squeezing passage with a gentle thrust making the profiler gasp with too much too soon as his swollen head hit home, sliding against Will’s prostate to make his body shutter with the bad man’s touch.

Trapped in a cage of flesh and blood in the form of Nigel’s body around his own they moved as one, the twin drawing long ragged cries of pleasure from his darling to echo out into the night air with each languid fuck.

Gasping his pleasure into the starry night sky on hands and knees Will never heard his phone ringing from the pocket of his jeans by the couch.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, your kudos are swinging from rope out the window, your comments are having a dance party on the roof.


	7. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nigel tries to turn Will against his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!! So for anyone who hasn't seen the notice I took a hiatus without much warning to write this beauty into a novel for NaNoWriMo!!! Woohoo!!!
> 
> I did it too~<3 (For anyone wondering) 
> 
> So technically this story is now complete but desperately needs to be edited and flushed. Once I have it all finished I am going to pull it for publication, sorry, but its something I very much want to do. So, please, enjoy the story to your hearts content while I continue posting chapters until I finish the book. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading the story and giving my baby the love and support it deserves, I really appreciate it~<3 <3 <3
> 
> On with the show!!!!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not beta read.
> 
> This chapter was written while drunk and edited with a hangover. I suffer with Will.

When Will awoke it was to a world outlined in nausea and pain.   His head throbbed even before opening his eyes to the harsh light of an overcast sky.     
  
One breath, another, slow, steady and he was rolling onto his raw and aching knees, stomach clenching as he heaved, retching over the concrete roof.    
  
His throat burned, eyes watering as another heave quaked his body and a firm hand found his back, sliding dry and cool over heated flesh.    
  
Will had forgotten he wasn’t alone, the sickness racking his body making the profiler momentarily forget the man who lay behind him.  Memories of his shared night together came drifting back to the forefront through waves of pain and nausea as his head throbbed.  He worked on swallowing one deep breath of air after another and stop the spasmodic clenching of his stomach.   
  
How much did he drink?  
  
“Feeling a little rough this morning darling?”  The words came lazy; accent heavier in the early morning to curl each word.  It was as though the foreign man was working to remember which language he needed to speak to the naked profiler with.  
  
Stomach settling, if only for the moment, he sat back, hissing as another pain moved through him; one associated with sore muscles unused to strange positions and being stretched.  The cold feeling of sticky semen left to cool on blankets and thighs telling the story of their second orgasm on the roofs edge and lack of clean up to follow.  
  
Nigel had pushed into him, filling him to the core as he rocked into Will on hands and knees, forcing him to cry out his pleasures into the late Bucharest sky.  It was why his knees were raw, palms sore from gripping the roofs lip as he took Nigel’s cock again and again.   
  
He felt one of those familiar arms circle around him, holding him as tight as they had the night before, keeping his quaking body still against one made solid with hardened muscle.  
  
“I’m fine,” It was only a partial lie, “I’ve had worse.”  He felt that strong arm drag him back to settle once more against the body that had held him near throughout the night despite his night sweats.  
  
“Yeah?”  Thin lips fell upon his throat, capturing the flesh by his ear to suck and nip as the deep rumble of a chuckle moved through him.  “Me too,”  The bad man pressed a bottle of water into his hand and Will didn’t hesitate in twisting its top and downing half of it in a few quick swallows.  He needed to hydrate and, despite his stomach, that meant water, “Doesn’t mean you don’t feel like shit.”  A broad calloused hand found its way between Will’s thighs, tracing circles in the sensitive skin that made his flesh tingle and had muscles jumping in his stomach.  
  
“I’m hungover and sore.”  Will admitted leaning back, letting himself relax into the warmth that encompassed him.  
  
“That so?”  A soft pack of cigarettes snuck around him, to tip by his ear for the bad man to capture a filter between lips.  “Then maybe we should head back inside, sooth some of those sores in a bath.”  A lighter flicked to light the tip into a glowing cherry.  A long pull sounding as the bad man took a lung full of nicotine into him.  He held it a long moment, his first drag of the day, to let the nicotine burn his lungs before letting it all curl free, away from the profiler held safe in his arms.   
  
Will rubbed his eyes, taking another long drink from the bottle as Nigel held him, the pair staring out into the city at twilight.  “I don’t think I have time for that,” he looked to the sky, it was light, but how late in the morning was next to impossible to tell, a thick layer of clouds having rolled in overnight to blanket the sun.  “I have to be at the station by nine.”  He hopped it wasn’t too late, would love to panic about it if he didn’t feel as though he’d been pulled from the grave.   
  
“Nine?”  A smile, another kiss pressing hot against his skin, “I’ll give you a ride to the station.”   
  
Will nodded, despite his fear of Nigel’s driving and value of life he didn’t know the way there and didn’t have his wallet.  Didn’t have much anything with him but the clothes on his back he’d arrived with.  “Thanks.”  He hoped they would make it to the station alive.   
  
Despite the pain still moving through his lower body with the ache of past pleasures and slip of tacky slick and seamen on his thighs Will tugged himself free from the bad man’s arms to look for the shirt he had lost during the night and briefly wondered if he could convince the bad man to pass a set of clothes up to him on the roof.  
  
It didn't happen.  
  
Nigel held the inexperienced profiler as he climbed over the buildings edge and back through the window, it wasn’t his proudest moment, late thirties and climbing though a bedroom window mooning the neighbours.  "You wanna tell me how often you charm people into sex by showing them the roof?"  Will asked, feeling a little better with his feet on solid ground and four walls defending his nudity from the open world.   
  
"Not as often as you might think," he grinned, sliding through the window with practiced ease to fall back onto dirty sheets and stretch, it was nearly impossible to stretch standing up in his loft, the roof too low unless he craned sideways to make room for his head.  "Only two," He admitted, grabbing more clothes than what was needed for himself before leading the way down spiral stairs.  
  
Will found he wasn't as sore as he'd expected to be, a dull ache more than a hurt moving through him for the new activities he’d indulged in.  It was as though he'd done a rigorous workout focusing on some less than used muscles and they were casting their opinion on the matter the morning after.  It wasn’t bad, the pleasure of the evening before more than outweighing his discomfort.  He held the railing to keep himself up anyway as he walked down the stairs, a mix of nausea and sore muscles reminding him to take it slow.    
  
"Bathroom's over here darling," Nigel directed Will with the carnal smile of a lover.  "Why don't you clean up a little?  Nice hot shower, work out some of those aches."  He was behind him, bristle of morning growth rubbing over Wills shoulders and neck as lips ghosted kisses over skin.  "I'll see about throwing together some breakfast."  
  
"I don't think I have time for breakfast."  He didn't quite argue.  He'd take coffee if it meant feeding it through an IV into his arm with an IV.  The food he was pretty sure he could do without.  "I don't even know what time it is."  Not that it would have made much difference, he needed a shower whether he was three hours early or fifty minutes late.  No difference would be made by looking at the clock other than an extra helping of anxiety to make him trip over himself and clean out his passage with fumbling fingers instead of easy movements and enjoying hot steam.  
  
He decided he’d be quick anyway, but he wasn't going to rush.  It was already going to be a hell of a day, he didn't want to make it any worse than it was already planned to be.  
  
"Early enough for you to have a soak if you want."  Nigel rumbled into his ear, hands touching beneath the cotton of his stolen shirt to feel the underfed body beneath and follow the shallow dip of too prominent ribs.  Will was clever, or so his brother told him, he had a keen mind and that beautiful mind refused to let go of the death it sought at the end of the day.  It led to too much drinking and not enough sleep, a natural appetite killer.   
  
"Sorry Nigel, but you seem like the kind of guy who would 'lose track of time' to keep their company a little longer."  He met the mouth wondering over his skin with a kiss and pushed hands away to investigate the only door other than the exit and storage in the large condo.  
  
"Only when the company is as gorgeous as you."  He let the delicious man slip away, watching the move of hips as he found and disappeared into the bathroom.   
  
He wanted to feel those hips in his hands again.  
  
Another smile pulled thin and wide, the bad man tapping a smoke from his soft pack of camels to light up as the door closed and the sound of rushing water could be heard.  He grabbed Wills forgotten shirt from the floor to pull over head, a fair trade with the man having borrowed his own, and stepped out the door.    
  
There was a cafe two doors down from his condo, one of the buying points for him in the location.  Nigel didn't cook.  Unlike his brother he didn’t care for it beyond the basics and that meant cafe's and restaurants.  This one in particular wasn’t too bad; the brew dark and rich, the food mediocre.   
  
He bought two coffees and a couple of bagels to go with the hopes of his Will taking his time in the shower.  To his relief Will was still in the shower upon his return, no doubt trying to work out the mess Nigel had left inside.  He hoped enough stayed buried inside to remind Will throughout the day what had taken place between them, keep the memories of his pleasure to the forefront.    
  
Depositing coffee and bagels on the island for later consumption he turned his attention instead to the discarded jeans and half visible cell phone blinking in their pocket.  "Someone missing you darling?"  He murmured to himself, sipping his own bitter coffee as he strode across the room to pick up the discarded pants and phone.  He dropped the denim to the couch while the phone he brought to life with the swipe of his thumb and a chuckle at the locked screen.  A picture of seven dogs brought to life.  It made his theft of the dachshund shirt that much more endearing.   
  
He didn't know the man well enough to be guessing passwords, but he didn't need to.  The name he'd been curious to see blinking to life on the call screen.  Dr. Lecter, highlighted at the top of the screen.  He dropped the phone back into Will’s jean pocket and slid the pants back onto the floor where they belonged just as the bathroom door feel open, his Will emerging with corkscrew ringlets springing damp around his head from a towel dry from the thick terry wrapped around his waist.   
  
"At least I know where my shirt is."  Will announced, looking the bad man wearing his shirt up and down.  He needed a shower himself, but there was something about seeing this man dressed in yesterday’s jeans and Will's traveling shirt that made his cock stir.  He hoped it had something to do with wanting to see the more refined Hannibal in casual denim and not a change of interest.  The shirt clung to his broad chest better than it did Will; slightly too small across the shoulders it wasn't leaving the profiler to guess at what lay hidden beneath.  "I don't suppose you've seen my pants too?"  He asked approaching.  
  
Nigel stooped long enough to pull up the denim, letting the cell phone fall from their pocket with a look of accident as it hit plush carpet and bounced.  "Sorry about that darling."  He grabbed the small glowing device, furrowing his brow as he handed it over.  "You expecting a call from my brother?"  He handed it back, gaining a look from his guest who quickly punched in a code Nigel watched upside down and scrolled to his log.    
  
"He was probably checking in on me."  Will admitted, feeling his stomach flip with the swell of guilt he had known he'd wake up to.  "I don't have any family to speak of and Jack doesn’t care so long as I get the job done and get back in time to solve the next Ripper case."   
  
“Checking in on you?"  He laughed, he didn’t care about the boss, taping out his second smoke of the morning to light up and take a deep draw, filing his lungs with the deep satisfaction of nicotine and burning smoke.  It was a habit he had indulged since he was a young teen and had no intention of stopping until Charon came to offer him a ride.  "You sure that's all it was?"  
  
"Are you insinuating that this call was meant to further his manipulation?"  He asked disbelieving, a brow quirked as he took in the man smiling with breath of silver and blue.  "Like you're doing now?"  
  
He laughed, it was deep and rolling and nothing like the quiet chuckle Hannibal offered.  This man was free with himself, unchecked and open with his whims, wills and wants.  It was refreshing not to have to interoperate and guess for a change, to just know; to see it and see him and just know.  "You know me so well already.  Yes darling, I'm working to take off the blinder that Hannibal has fastened around your eyes to keep you staring straight ahead at nothing and no one but him.  I'm letting you know there's a world of smoke and mirrors he's been leading you through and it's time for you to take a look and guess at what part of the magic show is bull shit and reality.”  
  
He took another satisfying drag from his cigarette, “I think you'd be surprised by how many mirrors are being pointed your way."  
  
It hadn't been what he'd expected, for Nigel to fall suddenly so still as he hinted at secrets Will knew nothing about and fed poison into his mind.  Or was it?  He couldn't deny that the kiss with no explanation, little explanation could be seen as something other than the simply invitation he had taken it to be.  "You make it sound as though I've been blindfolded and made to follow."  He didn't spit the words; he wasn't annoyed yet, just searching for clues.  If there was a puzzle being presented then he wanted to find all the pieces and solve it while he had the chance.   
  
"Not blind folded," he laughed again watching as Will stole his coffee to take a deep and scalding swallow.  Apparently the man loved his caffeine enough to forgo the ability to taste.  "There wouldn't be any fun in that."  He grabbed the folded pile of clothes he had brought down from his loft and handed them to Will:  A pair of his own jeans and a shirt for the man in a rush to borrow.  "The thing about Hanni is he gets bored.  He would never leave everyone blinded, not when he could let them peak and guess and see how long it takes before someone gets it right."  
  
"What are you trying to tell me?"  Will cut to the chase.  "This isn't about him dating me or you trying to stop it for a couple nights of casual sex."  He took the clothing being offered, they were too big for him by a couple of inches, but the belt that had been provided would do the trick until he could get back to something from his own suit case.  As it was it looked as though he’d be coming back for another visit if he wanted the return of his own clothes, unless he wanted to make it a permanent trade.  
  
"This is me telling you that Hanni is just as possessive and owning as I am, he's just better at hiding it."  Nigel purred, watching as the man he'd decided to keep slipped on his jeans and shirt.  They covered the beautiful trail of amethyst and onyx he'd come to love against Will’s pale skin.  It made him greedy to see the profiler marked as his own inside and out, dressed in a layer of Nigel’s own skin by way of denim and cotton.  "You think you know him.  I'm telling you that you don't."  
  
Will laughed, it was sardonic and unimpressed as he took another sip of the stolen coffee.  "He’s my psychiatrist Nigel, I’m sure there’s plenty about him I don’t know."  He pointed at him with his cup, “You for starters.”  
  
"I've been his twin for forty-two years and I don’t know everything about him."  He shrugged, "People change, you never know someone as well as you think."  He watched as the gorgeous man slipped into his jeans, the slide of denim over the curve of his perfect ass, "All I’m saying darling, is Hanni and I are two sides of the same God-damn coin."  
  
He fastened Nigel's belt to pull the oversized denim tight against skin.  It gathered at the back, telling Nigel exactly how much broader he was then the slighter man before him.  "I can't help but feel you're jealous Nigel.  I just slept with you, your brother calls, I miss it and you're trying to walk me into a fire."  
  
"Not at all darling," a broad hand he had become more than familiar with over the course of the night sat at the small of his back to lead him to one of the bar stools, it felt too much like Hannibal’s, the movement, the gesture, there were some traits that just carried between them.  "I'm just being honest with you.  No poker face for my hand, I'm laying all the cards on the table for you to see."  
  
"All the cards?"  He accepted a bagel, cinnamon with cream cheese.  He didn't like cream cheese, but everything tasted better with cinnamon.  "You telling me you don't have a couple of aces slipped up your sleeve?"  He bit into the baked good and decided he'd have to rethink his opinion of cinnamon.  Maybe not everything could be fixed with his spice of choice.  But it went damn fine with apples and became a blessing from god himself when baked in a pie.   
  
Nigel watched as Will ate a bagel he definitely wasn't interested in and decided to let him suffer for having decided to argue with him that morning instead of kiss him.  "Not yet, but it's never too late to slip an extra card from the deck."  He drank from what was supposed to have been Will's coffee, the since the profiler pinched his own.    
  
"But you think Hannibal's stacking it."  He clarified, knowing where Nigel was leading before the man could finish for him.   
  
A smile, wide and open like the cards he described, Nigel leaned back against the counter.  "That's exactly what I'm saying darling."  
  
"Does this go anywhere beyond me accepting that both of you are playing games with my head?"  He took another bite of bagel and wished he hadn't.  Cream cheese was disgusting.  
  
"Nothing at all darling, I just don't want you letting him guilt you into isolating yourself while in Bucharest, not when you have very willing company hoping to see you again."  
  
"You just want some easy tail while I’m in town."  He accused, scraping the creamed death off on a napkin to eat an only slightly nasty bagel with his coffee.    
  
"If I wanted easy tail I would have spent my night with one of the half dozen hookers from the bar instead and left my brothers patient to defend his own ass."  He said smooth as molasses, as though he hadn't just told Will he would have left him to die if it had been a simple case of sex.  "I brought you home because I've heard a lot about you from my brother.  I've been interested in meeting you for a long, long time."  
  
There was nothing but truth to be seen in his dark eyes a silent challenge for Will to call him a liar.  But he couldn't.  Not after the night they'd shared.  Not while wearing the man's clothes, sitting clean and sated with a coffee and bagel.  Nigel wanted him to come back, wanted to make sure he'd be back.  He hadn't had someone determined to be in his life since Hannibal had forced his way in.   
  
"If I apologise for insulting your integrity will you stop telling me to hate your brother?"  He was starting to second guess the man he was interested in back home and that wasn't what he wanted.  What he wanted was a straight answer regarding the kiss and an invite to dinner with ulterior motives.  
  
"Join me for dinner and we'll brush everything under the rug."  Wrong brother for that wish to come true; Will silently wondered why it was life continuously liked to fuck with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3 
> 
> Your kudos are swinging from the roof top rope pretending to be Spiderman, your comments are dying with Will and the writer in mutual hangover. 
> 
> Thanks again guys.


	8. Finders Keepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will goes to work...I need to work on making chapter summaries more interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all!!! 
> 
> As you know this book is becoming a novel, for that reason there are now a number of OC characters, not to worry though, their existence is mostly for plot and death, the majority of the story is still based around Will, Nigel and Hanni.
> 
> A big thank you to everyone who's been sending me their support for this story and loving it as much as I am, you're all wonderful and I love you. Thank you for sticking with me on this. C:
> 
> I own nothing...yet BUA HA HA HA HAA!!!
> 
> Not beta read...also yet. XD
> 
> (All translations can be find in the end notes)

He turned out to be late, even with Nigel's reckless driving taking him from his condo to the sector 3 police department with enough speed to have him questioning the laws of physics, Will walked into the office dressed in a pair of Nigel's old jeans and a blue button down hanging too loose from his smaller frame fifteen minutes later. He had lucked out with their closeness in height, but it didn't count for much with the man’s broader shoulders and built frame left the articles bagging off of Will's half-starved one.

It had taken more than a little effort for Will to keep from vomiting during the drive over, too many sharp turns and close calls for the profiler to stop his stomach from rolling. His luck ran out upon entering the office. He still wasn't sure how he managed to find the bathroom in time but he'd made it to the rest room and into a stall by seconds. He felt like death, and as he stepped out of the bathroom to look at the sign pinned to the door reading _Ladies Room_ he highly considered calling in on his first day.

"I could have been seen, he could have been worse." He reminded himself begrudgingly, walking down the hall toward the office of his new boss. He wasn't expecting this to go well. He hadn't had a chance to even open the file, never mind give it a good once over before work. He was walking into this blind and preying to any deity that might listen he wasn't quizzed on possible profiles upon entering the office.

If he was lucky he would find Alex and have the man remind him where he lived on the down low so he could make run back to his apartment, grab the file and change into something fresh and his own the first free moment he got.

"Good morning Domnul Graham," Alex greeted with a smile and a cup of steaming coffee. "Did you sleep well?" His play of smile turned mischievous as he took in Will’s appearance.   He didn’t have to take a guess at what Alex was seeing. It was all over his face.

"I think you know that I didn't." He countered, accepting the offering of caffeine, "Thanks. My jet lag is still killing me and I made the mistake of getting drunk before passing out. "Not entirely untrue. He was leaving out the part where he had his jacket stolen, witnessed a murder and hadn’t called the police thanks to other distractions. He’d have to talk to him later, once he was done retrieving the file and getting the Chestor sorted.

He laughed at him. It was warm and almost mocking as he turned Will around to led him back toward the entrance. "Where did you go last night?"

"What I do on my spare time does not affect my work, if you are at all implying that I-" He didn't get the chance to finish.

"The hangover does not concern me Will, I have worked through more than my own share of shifts with my head pounding and a bucket between my knees.” He laughed again, “My concern is that you drank, slept and forgot your temporary badge." He informed him. "You need to go home and get it."

That wasn't good. He couldn't remember where the hell _home_ was, not unless he could get a cabby to take him to Wolf Trap. He couldn’t even remember the name of the street he was staying on, not with all the signs posted in a language so different from his own. "Is there any chance of a ride?" He asked, "I forgot the file, it has my badge inside and my address. I don't know the streets well enough to find my way around on my own yet."

This time when he laughed it was with a slap on the back as he led Will back towards his Volkswagon. "Then you surly have the luck of the devil." He opened the door to let the profiler climb inside. "I have been assigned as your partner for this case.” He explained and Will tried to think of how he’d managed to get off with this one. “You can tell Chestor Morar you saw me in the hall and dragged me away to begin researching the case when you found out we were partners.” He gave him a look, “A little enthusiasm toward your work will save you from the Chestor's wrath."

"Thank you." He said, and meant it, settling back in the car seat he was becoming accustomed to. He'd have to make a point of taking Alex out for a drink when this was all over, he more than owned the agent watching his back while lost in Romania.

"Anytime." He answered, driving an only slightly familiar route back to Will's new accommodations. He was paying more attention this time around from what he had the day before, sipping his coffee and looking for any land marks he might be able to give a cabbie next time he needed a ride; which would only work if the cab driver happened to know English.

This job was becoming tedious with the language barrier holding him back. "Were you assigned to me for linguistic purposes?" He asked surprised to see Nigel’s car parked outside a laundry matt as they drove. He hoped that meant the man was dropping off his clothes as he hadn't seen a washer and dryer in the condo.

Someone else he'd have to say thank you to.

Which brought another set of thoughts to the forefront.

"I went for a walk last night." He began, feeling the warmth of coffee seeping through the cheap paper cup to warm his hands. "I'm not sure what area I was in, what street, it was just up from my place. But I witnessed a murder."

The car signaled, Alex pulling them to park on the curb without warning. "You went for a walk and saw a murder? I thought you said you slept in." He turned in his seat, giving the profilers his complete attention.

"There's a longer story to it, I was hoping to grab my badge before making the report." But at the very least he had to keep his partner in the loop. "I did pass out when I got in though, that wasn't a lie. Neither was my sleeping in. But I didn't make it back to my apartment after the walk."

Alex was watching him with a look of disbelief, hardly able to believe his ears, "Tell me everything. Please."

"I went out looking for a kettle and some instant coffee, while exploring I heard a noise, looked down an alleyway and saw two guys with a gun and a silencer. I saw them, they saw me, they pursued me and I ran. I don't know where I was when it happened; I couldn't make out their faces in the dark. I just ran until I lost them."

"And were lost yourself." Alex filled in, cursing under his breath. "What happened after that? Why did you not call the police?"

"By some miracle I ran into my phsy-friends previously unmentioned twin. He took me back to his place. I drank when I should have called." He wasn't proud of himself. But he wasn't ashamed either. He hadn’t been thinking straight, between the jet lag, near death experience and meeting Hannibal’s twin Will’s mind had been dancing between a thousand places at once.

"You need to write this in a report." Alex declared, "You should have called this in, no matter what happened. That was beyond unprofessional and careless." He lectured and it reminded him of Alana.

A tap at the window made the cop jump, looking past Will to another grinning outside his window. Will felt his stomach drop as he met eyes with Nigel through the pane of glass; this was not the time to be dealing with him. Turning back to Alex the man looked drained, the color bleached from his face, the way he looked at Nigel through the glass over Will’s shoulder screamed of nothing but fear. Alexandru knew Nigel, knew him on a deep and personal level. "Would you mind rolling down your window, Domnul Graham?"

He looked over his shoulder again to the man standing outside; a lit cigarette perched between lips as he sucked back nicotine and smoke, waiting for the window to drop. Will grabbed the old handle and rolled the glass down, letting the bad man lean in a little closer with the grin of a shark, one arm resting on the roof of the car. "Alexandru, it's been a while." He voice was almost a purr, molasses and honey soaked with poison, "where is it you're off to today?"

His eyes darted between Will and the bad man looking at them, there was a whole new kind of terror eating away at the officer as he tried to fake a smile at Nigel that wouldn't leave Will suspicious. It wasn’t working, the empathy already experiencing the dread sitting like a rock in Alex’s belly. "I'm just showing my new partner the ropes." He explained, indicating Will in the passenger’s seat. "Domnul Graham, this is-"

Nigel cut him short, the bad man blowing a curl of smoke to disappear in the wind, "I know who he is Alexandru, we met last night he and I." The officer's face, if possible, blanched more. "He mentioned that to you did he?" That shark tooth smile turned to Will, "Sorry darling, this will only take a moment." And then he switched to Romanian, the words falling off his tongue with practiced ease, "Alex, am nevoie de tine pentru a ridica un pachet pentru mine. Crezi ca poti face asta?"

He nodded, swallowing hard as he looked from one man to the other, from Will to Nigel, he didn’t want Will there in that moment, didn’t want him playing witness as he made a deal with the devil. "Asta nu va fi o problema Domnul Lecter." Whatever he answered seemed to be enough for the bad man chatting up his partner. He hit the roof of the car twice, stepping back from the vehicle in its dismissal.

Alex rolled the engine, ready to pull the old Volkswagon away from the curb as Nigel's familiar voice called out in one last request, warning or order. It was another phrase Will didn't understand, but knew from the tone, the warning look on his Nigel’s face, it was nothing good. "Si Alex, fi cel mai atent. Tu nu vrei nimic rau se întâmpla cu Will în timp ce în îngrijirea dumneavoastra." He nodded, two quick jerks of his chin and pulled away from the curb. "I'll see you tonight darling." He called into the wind after the speeding care as the agents pulled away to speed down the poorly kept street.

"What the hell was that about?" Will demanded, rolling up the window as they took off down city streets at twice the speed as what was legal back home. He feared driving Bucharest. Feared it bad enough to not want to know what the fatality rates of car accidents were for the Romanian city.

"It was about nothing." Alex snapped, sending Will sideways glances that had the profiler working through the puzzle pieces scattered in his mind. There was a lot more to Nigel than he’d previously suspected, the man’s control over an officer leaving Will more than a little disturbed. "Nothing that concerns anyone but myself and Domnul Lecter." He corrected.

Will wasn't happy with that answer though, Nigel was becoming more dangerous to be around by the second. It didn't help matters when Alex searched for more information on the topic to be. "Was it Domnul Lecter who you ran into last night?" He looked as though he were hoping the answer to be a 'no'. Will decided not to give him what he wanted. He needed truths and trust and neither would be won with falsehoods and lies.

"Yeah, I ran into him in a bar while trying to lose the pair that had been chasing me." He watched the tightening of skin around his jaw, the whitening of knuckles as fingers gripped the steering wheel too tight. "Is that a problem for you?"

"No, of course not." He fluxed his fingers, forcing them loose as he turned a sharp corner that reminded Will he was still very hung over and still very much wanted to throw up. He took a deep swallow of coffee hoped to keep the bile down with the pull of scalding brew.

"What’s he blackmailing you with? " It didn’t take a genius to see that the man was being held under his thumb with something. Nigel had some kind of dirt on Alex he was forcing him to do work with. What kind of work and what he had Will couldn’t begin to guess, but he could see that Alex didn’t like it. He didn’t’ want to work with Nigel, didn’t enjoy doing as the bad man asked of him. He feared him the way children feared the boogie man. Waiting for the monster to step out of the work of shadows and into his home of light, if only for long enough to pull him into the darkness and have the officer drown with him.

He worked his jaw, searching for the right words, possibly to explain himself with, possibly to tell Will to shut up and mind his own damn business. "You spent the night with him." He reiterated, "Meaning there will be no police report."

Will's brows shot to the ceiling. It wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. "Excuse me?" He laughed, but there was no humor to it, it was dark and disbelieving.

"I need you to keep this a secret Will. I need you to trust me and keep Domnul Lecter to yourself." His voice was flat, determined, but Will could read the need in it, the begging for compliance. Whatever it was Nigel had on him, Alex was buried so deep he couldn’t see the light.

"You want us to forgo the report? Pretend none of last night happened?" He asked as they pulled up to his apartment.

Alex killed the engine, falling back into his seat much as Will had the day before, tired and worn. He suddenly looked years beyond himself, the happy man Will had met at the airport gone, replaced with the struggling husk of who he used to be. Will wondered how he could have missed such devastation in the man upon their first meeting. Either Alex was an expert at hiding himself or the jet lag and too few hours of sleep had taken a greater effect on him than expected.

"Please Will, don't ask me anything." He said quietly, his eyes trained on the leather of the steering wheel before him. "I need you to keep this quiet, strictly between us." The man looked as trapped as a rabbit caught in a noose, as though he were just waiting for the wire to wring tight and strangle him.

As though it would be a relief when it finally did, "I covered you for this morning Will, you could have been sent back to America if I hadn’t.” Blackmail, he was so desperate to keep this skeleton in the closet he would threaten Wills job. “I need you to keep last night’s murder and everything pertaining to Domnul Lecter to yourself from now on." He at last turned to meet Will's eyes and in their depths he watched that rabbit choke. He was already dead. "Please."

"Alright. I'll keep your secret."

OoOoO

"Where is Claudiu?" Marku Ungur demanded, puffing the thick butt of an import cigar to send thick plums of smoke to choke the air. He was an older man, beginning to bald with a receding hair line of ash and eyes dark enough to be mistaken for black. They pinched in the corners, almost almond in shape to hint at the fading Asian heritage on his mother’s side. "He was supposed to be back hours ago." He dropped a flush on the poker and grinned, pulling in several thousand in winnings from the men who played. He loved to gamble, lived for the thrill of chance and luck.

It was how he'd gotten so far, how the man had built his business. Luck and chance and the good fortune of God smiling upon him.

In his youth his father had traded him to a mafia man as labour in exchange for an extension on a lone that would one day be his death. Actually Marku had been the one to deliver that death onto him, a golden moment in his life and the first stepping stone in rising the ranks to where he stood now at the top of the pyramid. That one bargain made by his father would turn out to be the trade that turned Marku's life around, change his path from one of scrimping and scrounging for scraps on the street to one of power and money.

He watched the boys play, gambling off handfuls of money and bills like pocket change, winning it big or losing it all and decided then that he would be one of those men walking away from the table with a pocket full of bills. He bought his first pack of cards that vary day. Playing against himself and a book borrowed from the local library until he learned every card of chance and game that could be had in a play of poker.

Now he enjoyed both winning and losing, too much money to care of the little lost to his men in a round with a few thousand sitting in the pot.

"Claudiu didn't come back yesterday," Fane, another of his boys, older, more skilled in the business of illicit activities than most and his right hand, supplied. "He was forced to go to the dentist after a meeting with Lecter."

Marku didn't enjoy conversations pertaining to Lecter. The man had seemingly appeared out of thin air to build himself an empire in Bucharest and claim whole sections of Marku's territory almost overnight some six years ago. He'd never been able to find out much on the man other than he'd shown up some two years prior to his take over to stake claim on his turf and start up his own less than legal business with Darko.

He'd been making Marku's life a living hell ever since. "What did he do to Claudiu?" He asked with growing ire as he laid down the cards and stood to meet Fane eye to eye. The man didn't flinch, calmly adjusting his glasses as he was stared down by his boss.

"I'm not entirely sure. He was unable to tell me do to the teeth curved down his throat." It was obvious the boy had been made to eat pavement, though the how of it would be unclear until he could either hold a pen or speak. The amount of pain he was suffering when he'd stumbled through the door the night before had left him nearly incoherent. Fane had been the one to greet him at the door, rushing him to the first emergency clinic that would take cash without questions.

Given the recent body count turning up all over the city Claudiu should have counted himself lucky to be alive after a meeting with Nigel Lecter, though they had no proof of the matter no one doubted it was his brutal signature stamped on bodies of each crime scene found with one of their men hanging displayed; a warning to stay off turf that should never have been claimed by the bad man.

"That cunt!" Marku roared, grabbing the chair he had occupied to shatter against the wall. Splinters flew, the men who had sat peacefully with their leader enjoying vodka and cards moments before scattering to avoid their leaders wrath as he unleashed his anger upon the room. "This is the sixth man! The sixth to be bloodied under that squeaking cunts hands in the last two months!" He kicked another chair, the wooden piece flying across the room to be caught by another stander by who knew better than to get in the way.

"Yes," Fane stepped behind his leader, patiently waiting for the brunt of his anger to pass in a fury against the furniture. "But this will be his last. If he means to keep us away through murder and exhibits of violence, then we should bring the violence to him." He walked the short distance to another man in the room, one who had unfortunately arrived with his partner and Fane some ten minutes ago. "You said you had something to show Marku?"

Their leader looked to his men, still huffing from the wealth of his anger as he looked from one to the other, a ginger not too much younger than himself, his penny colored hair streaked with silver where the dye had begun to fade from silver strands. He also had a bruise by his temple where a shoe had collided with his face. He'd wanted to speak on the matter with their boss, but hadn't wanted to approach it while the man was red in the face with anger. "The hit on Loki was a success." The man began, dry swallowing as he hopped the delivery of good news, of Darko's right hand successfully being removed, would lesson his anger. "However, we were seen while doing it." Because telling him they'd been caught wasn't going to do shit for the man’s mood.

Marku sneered, his lip curling as he waited for his henchman to continue, because there had better be more to his story than 'We were seen'. "Did you kill him?" He prompted when the man choose to think instead of speak. That wasn't an option. Thinking gave time for lies to form, for a man to make poor decisions and try to pull the wool over Marku's eyes. He wasn't going to allow Sorin the time to come up with anything better than the truth.

"I-he got away." He swallowed again, trying to wet his throat with a moisture that wasn't there, a thin sheet of perspiration beginning to shine on his brow as he faced his enraged boss.

"He got away." He looked to Fane, his face reddening more. "A man watched you kill Loki and you let him get away? YOU WERE SEEN AND YOU LET THEM GET AWAY!" Spittle splashed across the fearful man's face a meaty fist colliding to splinter cheap drywall by his head.

"He ran into Oroborus! We couldn't follow him!" He quickly defended, drawing those dark eyes back to himself. Oroborus was Nigel's turf and everyone knew it, the gentleman’s club his way of laundering money. It wasn't run by him, at least not on paper, but everything within and around it carried could still be controlled by the bad man behind the scenes. He ran the show from shadows, pulling strings to make his puppets move and show them where to turn.

He was working to compose himself, deep breaths to sooth his rage back to simmering as he pulled his hand from the wall. "Sorin, tell me that there is a happy ending to this story." He looked at the skinned flesh of his knuckles, the white powder hiding reddening skin and highlighting the dot of blood that pooled on his knuckle where a board and nail had caught the skin on the other side.

"We caught him trying to leave out the back door. He was with Nigel." Another voice chimed in, black hair slicked back from a face with a little too much gel and eager fingers, the partner Sorin had entered with. "We didn't catch him, Nigel knocked us out, but we grabbed the witness’s jacket; got his wallet." This seemed to ease a little of the anger, their leader extending a fat hand for the stolen cow hide. 

"He was with Nigel? And you grabbed his wallet?" He smiled, "Was there anything of interest in it?" They knew what he wanted. 

"We think he was a tourist." Fane offered, handing Marku the sought piece, "I say ‘was’, not too many men would stick around after witnessing a murder. He should be on his merry way back to America on the next plane out of Bucharest."

That seemed to satisfy him, the man calming back to his usual composed self. "I see..." He pulled the thin plastic drivers licence from its pocket and looked at the name. There was nothing else of value to him in it. A hand full of bills he'd leave for his boys to pocket and a credit card most likely canceled and useless. "So this William Graham is someone Nigel wants to protect?" He touched the card to his lips, tapped it as he considered this new development, "I think you're right Fane, I think our new friend William has most likely ran home." But he couldn't have that. Marku didn't like leave loose ends, especially when it came to Nigel. He had created more than a few loose ends for Marku and he was chasing that man with fire to burn his end and stop them from unravelling. William seemed like a lovely enough piece of string to torch on his behalf.

"Sorin, Tiberiu," the red and black haired men stepped forward, Tiberiu was considerably younger than his partner, Sorin having an easy twenty years on the youthful man. "This is your mess. See to it that you pay William Graham a visit."

They turned to each other and back to their boss, "We're going to America?" Sorin searched for confirmation.

"I believe that's what he said." Fane confirmed for them, making the simplest of hand gestures to urge the men on their way, they took the hint, turning from the room to hurry on their next mission. "Tiberiu!" He called after the younger male, earning a glance from weary green eyes as he through the forgotten wallet to the duo, licence returned to the card slip inside. "You should probably return this." He smiled, "heaven knows he must be looking for it." 

Marku laughed a deep bellow to echo after the pair as they hurried away to catch their flight.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are trying to break into Nigel's car, your comments are texting Hannibal to get to Will's house.
> 
> TRANSLATIONS: 
> 
> "Alex, am nevoie de tine pentru a ridica un pachet pentru mine. Crezi ca poti face asta?"  
> "Alex , I need you to pick up a package for me . Think you can do that?"
> 
> "Asta nu va fi o problema Domnul Lecter."  
> "That will not be a problem Mr. Lecter"
> 
> "Si Alex, fi cel mai atent. Tu nu vrei nimic rau se întâmpla cu Will în timp ce în îngrijirea dumneavoastra."  
> "And Alex , be most careful. You do not want anything bad to happen to Will while in your care."


	9. Hangman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally looks into the murders and starts making a profile for the case...and Nigel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Be happy I'm writing Hannibal, I've been getting really into Assassins Creed lately and have barely been stopping myself from turning to AC fiction writing under the knowledge that I have too many Hannibal stories to finish first. XD
> 
> Anyway, enough of my rambling, thank you to everyone leaving me comments, I really appreciate them and will reply to your previous comments as soon as I find a little time, Christmas is a pain in the butt and children are wonderful terrors. C;
> 
> On with the show!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not beta read.

The crime scene had been cleaned long before Will arrived in Bucharest, leaving the profiler with numerous photos and documents and not a whole lot to work with from the scene of the crime. It looked like any other building now, a six unit apartment with rooms to rent and not a whole lot of people looking to fill them after the recent murders. Judging by the numerous windows lacking curtains Will was willing to bet most if not all of the units were now available after the discovery of the body hung over edge.

"Lots of pictures," Will noted, looking from the assortment of glossy photos in the folder to the first building a victim had been discovered dangling from. The man in question, a D. Popescu, had been found upside down with his a hole in his head. A local woman had called it in when she noticed the body during an early morning jog, Will was just happy it was a local woman and not an early rising child.

The ordeal had originally been documented as a suicide, though the gun had fallen from the man’s hand during his descent over the buildings edge, his prints had been easily taken from the handle of the well cared for weapon, his and his alone.

The bullet wound had only aided in the suspicion of self-destruction. It was a traditional suicide shot, a star burn from the muzzle against Popescu temple a classic sign of the close proximity of the barrel to skin. Will could see a lingering stain of rust in the mortar where the body had lied to leak fluids down the buildings face, a shadow of death clinging to the bricks like a shawl. "How did you know this was a part of the murders and not just a bad suicide?" He asked looking from the photo's to his still solemn partner. Alex hadn't spoken much since running into Nigel, the cheery man meant to watch Will’s back suddenly keeping his thoughts to himself. Will didn't like that, not with the man acting as his translator and standing guard. He was used to being disliked, but he was used to being disliked while being armed and able to protect himself in an English speaking country. "Alex?" He prompted, hoping to jolt the officer.

"Are you working with him?" Was the question he hadn’t expected, the distanced look Alexandru’s dark eyes had held since running into the bad man at last clearing to focus on Will, their depths accusing with betrayal.

"I only arrived yesterday, how could I possibly be working with Nigel?" He closed the folder turning his full attention to his partner, but his answer was neither the ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ Alex was looking for and he waited stone faced for the clarification he desired. "No.” Will clarified, exasperation sneaking into his words as he was made to justify himself. “I'm friends with his brother. Our meeting last night was complete coincidence." Will was running on fumes, still tired on too little sleep and not nearly enough caffeine to be taking on the hangover pounding behind his eyes, he really didn’t need this right now.

But life didn’t care and kept adding to the pile.

Will could see it in his eyes, Alex wanted to believe him, needed a friend he could trust with a sickening desperation, maybe more so than Will, but his trust for the profiler had been thrown to the wind when they'd ran into Nigel.

"What does he have on you?" Because that was the real problem; Nigel had something on Alex that was keeping the officer under his thumb, blackmail on the cop who obviously wanted nothing to do with the twin that was keeping him a very short, very tight leash.

"I told you not to ask." He reminded, finally finding his voice and his courage. He didn't meet Will's eyes again, instead turning his attentions back to the murder at hand. "We thought it was too brutal to be a suicide,” He changed subject, “especially once the others started showing up, it seem to fit. Suicide tends to be more subtle, they don't usually display themselves like this. Jumping off a bride, bleeding out in a bathtub, hanging themselves in the closet, you get the picture. Hanging themselves off the side of a building upside down with a shot through the head?" He shrugged. "No, this was intentional, this was done to scare somebody."

"I have to agree, suicide is more intimate. This was done to mock the man who died, make an example of him and show-off the killers ability to control.” He was sincerely regretting the scotch, his head pounding as he tried to think, “Whoever’s responsible for this, they don’t need co-operation; whoever this message is for, they’re telling them they don’t need to take it, whatever it is, from them. They’ll give it to them." He opened the folder again now that at least part of his partner’s attention had returned to the case, partial or full he’d take what he could get.

It was only fair, it was all Will was offering up himself, his own thoughts split between a dead man, his raging headache and the mistake he’d slept with last night.

Nigel wasn't a good man. Will had known that before stepping foot out of the bar. But that was about all he knew about Nigel. He hadn’t wanted to know more at the time, nothing more than he had to because he’d been afraid of creating bad water between him and Hannibal. Now he was wishing he knew a whole lot more. The man enjoyed violence, was accustomed to it enough to deal it out and walk away with a smile. He worked in a business that used blood and pain to his advantage and the business paid well, if his house offered any sort of insight toward the profile Will was building, it paid _very_ well.

And then there was his sway at Ouroboros.

It wasn’t much, but it was the start he needed toward divulging the bad man and what he held over Alex. His next dilemma was deciding how much he really wanted to know about Nigel Lecter. How much was he willing to risk losing the friendship he’d built with Hannibal over the actions of his twin?

Hannibal was a friend he didn't want to lose, his reason for closing his eyes and sticking his head in the sand in the first place, it was the choice of ignorance that had gotten him where he was now. Stuck with an un-trusting partner, no weapon, a case both men were too distracted from to give their full attention and the growing possibility of a lost friendship.

It was a thought that turned his stomach, a nightmare in itself he wouldn’t be able to wake from. He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Hannibal. The man was his rock, a beacon of light on the shore for Will to swim toward when the seas of his mind became too rough and the boat he was lost in capsized. Without him Will would have fallen apart months ago.

 _“Hanni is just as possessive and owning as I am, he's just better at hiding it."_ Nigel hadn’t been lying when he said it. He’s was being brutally honest with Will in a way that actually had him second guessing his friend and therapist as he recalled the words from that morning. It was something else he’d have to think about…maybe. He still wasn’t willing to yield on Hannibal’s innocence, but the way Nigel had looked at him, the way he’d said it as though it were as real as the air he breathed…it had stuck with Will, pulling at his mind like the sting of a splinter. It wouldn’t go away until he picked it out of his skin.

He brought himself back to the case, "I need to get on the roof." He announced, looking over head at the buildings edge and cloud crawling sky. It looked as though it was going to rain, the beginning of a chill creeping on the wind to kiss their skin into goose bumps. He wished he’d thought to borrow a jacket.

"I'll speak with the residence, whoever’s left." It was a three story building, an apartment with a roof top fire escape. Will left Alex to speak with the residence while he walked around to the back where the ladder to the roof resided. With the investigation for this particular area completed he didn’t worry about finger prints as he grabbed the ladder and climbed to the top, lifting himself over the ledge to walk to the buildings edge and see over. It was a long drop, not the tallest building in the area, but high enough to look over the top of most other houses to a few of the taller ones scattered a couple streets over and a towering cathedral a couple of blocks down. "Was someone watching this?" He asked the late morning sky, "Did they care if they did or didn't?" Was it a case of ‘who’ he was, not ‘where’ he was? Or was one just as important as the other? Or not at all?

He skimmed over the translated document one last time, his eyes focusing more on the pictures detailing the murder than anything the documented pages behind them had to offer. One could only glen so much from the information gathered by another.

Closing his eyes he took a breath and let the pendulum swing.

“I bring Mr. Popescu up onto the roof top, his hands and feet are not bound, they do not have to be.” He’s climbing the ladder behind his victim, the man climbing up ahead of him, one sluggish step at a time. “I have control over his every movement without ever having to lay a finger on him. The puppeteer to his marionette,” they climb over the edge his victim first and he after and he stands to the man’s side, an observer to the destruction he is about to do unto himself. “I had made him carry a rope, tote the own means of his end all the way to the top, now that we stand on the roof I instruct Mr. Popescu to tie one end of the rope to the steel bar of the ladder, to walk to the buildings edge and tie the other around his ankles.” He watches the man, not much older than himself, tie the thick rough rope first around the ladders pole and then around himself, standing precariously on the buildings edge. “He complies without question or fight.” There had been no signs of struggle. The only marks upon him, outside of aged scares, from the rope, the gun and the fine white powder of cocaine on his nose

“I than ask Mr. Popescu to take the gun from his holster and hold it to his head. I have not taken his weapon from him because I hold no fear of him using it against me. My control over Mr. Popescu is so complete the man wouldn’t dare.” He complies, and Will watches, mesmerized, his blood plumping through his veins, adrenalin moving through him like a live wire of fire, the absolute power, undeniable control he holds over this man and his life all held within the very whisper of words from his tongue. It always felt good when he slipped into their skin and made the world bleed. It was why he feared it so deeply, “Standing on the building edge, feet bound and gun pressed by his own hand to his temple, I death by his own hands I watch as Mr. Popescu stand still, awaiting my final order…” He watches the man shift, in the flash of a blink Popescu has turned to Hobbs, the dead man grinning at him as he murmured words that should have been forgotten, “I tell him to fire,” he spits at the haunting and feels another wave of power as the dead man pulled the trigger, “Blowing a hole through the side of his head Mr. Popescu falls from the buildings side without my ever having to lay a finger on him…informing everyone he knows that I do not need an army to take them down. I can make them do it to themselves…this is my design.”

"Will?" Startled back to the present by the call of his partner from below Will swallowed back air to ease as much of the killer from his mind as he could, looking down over the buildings front to Alexandru, the officer offering him a look for having disappeared without a word.

"Sorry,” he tried to stop the shaking in his voice, the killer was gone, but the adrenalin had stayed, his heart pounding and blood still on fire with the murder he hadn’t committed. “I have what I need. Can we move to the next location?" He called back. He really needed to think about risking his life in a rental car and downloading a Romanian language app.

"What did you find?" Alex asked once the hired profiler was back on solid ground and walking with him back toward the car.

"Nothing solid," He slid into the passenger seat and felt his stomach lurch as Alex peeled out into the road. He had been hoping that it had only been Nigel who drove as though he had a death wish to be granted, apparently that wasn't the case. Alex drove just as reckless as the monster he'd bunked with. "The report I read theorized an area dispute between gangs as cause for the murders. I think I agree. But I still want to see the other sights."

The drive was quiet after that, the usually cheery officer keeping to himself as they drove to their next destination. It turned out to be a telephone pole, the body of a woman found strung up like a crucified sacrifice, another hole punched through her skull. This one was murder, unquestionable. There was no way for the victim to have fastened herself her body to the pole as she had.

Not with her hands missing, the appendages severed at the wrist.

"These are warnings.” His hunch was unmistaken as he looked between the photos and the pole. “The first was a show of the submission he could force; the second is a promise to follow through his threats." Though whatever had worked on the first victim obviously hadn’t worked on the second.

Will couldn't get up the pole, knew that without asking, he leaned against it instead, standing beneath where the victim had hung; back pressed to the wood. Unfortunately for Will it only allowed him to stare across the street to a couple of houses. It wasn’t the view he was looking for. He’d need to get up higher for that.       

The area was all residential, no stores anywhere on the block, which meant no video surveillance, and unlike the last area the street was covered in houses, not towering apartments. Which posed the question: How did they get the body onto the pole without being seen?

"This is definitely a gang war and your culprit has people working in the electrical company." Will announced. "There would have been a call made for wires down or an emergency,” he flipped through the folder examining the pictures of the second scene, despite the numerous shots of the body and wounds it had obtained there was no photo depicting the view the corpse would have enjoyed in death, “Something that would need a couple of guys and a truck, one with a bucket ladder." The body would have been collected from another location and loaded into the bucket for display at this precise location.

Location was a factor or they wouldn’t have been picking places that would leave them easy to be caught.

He wondered if they'd bothered to clean out the buckets with bleach.

Then again, after nearly two months there wouldn’t be any evidence left to find. "Two more buildings and another strung up from a street light right?" He looked up the pole, straining to see if any dark stains could still be seen on the innocent wood. There were none that he could make out, not like there’d been on the mortar, the little color that had seeped from broken flesh onto wood long since washed away.

He tried to picture the woman, dead and silent with unseeing eyes staring out into the night, arms bound at the shoulder, elbow and wrist to the cross beam; ankles to the pole…but no hands…an angled shot through the back of her head and no hands.

“She fought back.” Whatever had transpired between her and the killers, the reason she had been brutalized, was a punishment against her. She had fought back and this was their answer. Take the evidence, display the body. Make it ruthless. “They shot her to stop her. Where Mr. Popescu had taken his own life, hers had been taken from her. Whatever had worked on Popescu, hadn’t worked on Mrs. Albu.” She fought back, they’d been forced to take her down and Will was willing to bet she’d gotten her hands the one doing it, scrapped skin under her fingernails they weren’t willing to leave behind.   So they took her hands. No risk of DNA traces left to be found.

"Alex, do the police have any idea what gangs are working what sections of the city?" He needed a visual, all he knew about Bucharest was that the city was divided into six sectors and they made it look like a pie the way it all split from the middle.

"Only a little," he admitted, "the men we capture are fiercely loyal. I can get you the reports, but they're all in Romanian. It’ll take me a bit to have the file translated."

The language barrier was becoming more and more problematic by the day, despite his tendencies toward isolation, Will had never felt more alone than he did in the Romanian city; he couldn’t even pick up a copy of the local paper. It was a level of isolation he’d never experienced before. "I need you to go over any files you have regarding these gangs and look for anything that might connect to this case." It wasn’t a small request.

"You are asking for a late night." Alex accused, still looked stressed. The idea of their day getting longer left him looking even more drained.

"I'll buy you dinner.” It was a promise that earned him a half-hearted laugh.

OoOoO

He didn't buy him dinner, instead having Alex buy him another meal as he recalled the loss of his wallet while standing at the check-out, the article lost with his jacket the day before. It was a stupid mistake, but there was too much happening all at once and his mind was stretched in too many places as he tried to cope with alcohol, poor decision and lingering jet lag.

He also still needed to return Hannibal's phone call, at least one thing he was looking forward to. It would give him a chance to ask the man if he could mail him a few things he hadn't been expecting to need and suddenly did.

Things like another jacket and the VISA he kept in his sock drawer for emergencies, because there was no way he was going to be getting a new debit card anytime soon to be making currency exchanges, not while lost in Bucharest.

He cursed himself for having let Jack ship him off before he could have better prepared for the trip and then cursed Jack for ever having offered him up in the first place. In these last two days Will had never been more unprofessional in his life. It was killing the little piece of him that actually took pride in his work.

"It had to have been in my jacket." He explained, as they dropped down in one of the many side rooms of the precinct and began pouring over files and notes. Will over his own folders and a map he'd had Alex pick up from the local gas station and Alex over the dozen folders pulled from drawers.

It was with the realization of his continuously shitty luck that Alex had finally started to relax around him again, no threat to be had from the profiler who couldn’t seem to walk three steps without lady luck pulling the rug out from under him. "Your luck is worse than mine." He grinned at Will, looking up from one document or another to take a bite of burger and wipe his fingers on a napkin.

"It's not usually this bad." He muttered, marking out the founded locations of each body to have turned up, "Just a bad start. It would have been better if I'd been able to remember the address for my apartment." He could have skipped most of the day’s drama if he’d know the way home. It still wouldn’t have helped him with his wallet, but in comparison that was the least of his worries. He'd already canceled his debit card and the credit card he'd taken for any unexpected travel expense, the only real lose was a hundred Romanian leu's-roughly thirty dollars-and his driver’s licence. There might have been a couple receipts jammed into one pocket and a coupon for half price chicken and taco's, but nothing he couldn't replace when he got home.

He hadn’t lost his pass port and that he would count as a blessing.

"What connection do you have with Nigel?" Alex changed subject fast enough to give Will whiplash, the profiler looking up at the interrogating officer with disbelief at the subjects return. "I need to know Will.” He buried his face in his hands, stressed and overwhelmed by the happenings of the day. “I won't be able to do my job until I do."

He wondered to which _job_ he was referring, the one of an officer to protect and defend, or whatever it was he had going on with Nigel. "I'm no one you have to worry about in regards to Nigel."

"Are you-" he gave Will a look that left him feeling as though he were back in high school, an awkward friend asking if he’d made it to second base without speaking the forbidden word.

"Does it matter?" He answered instead, because that could offer enough truth for Alex to pick out what he needed and enough denial for Will not to feel like he was back in high school.

He sat quiet a moment longer, considering Will and his non-answer before nodding, he'd taken what he'd wanted from it, decided that whether he was fucking him or not they were involved and that was good enough for the officer. "I have to run an errand for my wife," he lied and Will could see it, watched the uneasy movements that gave it all away and wondered how the man had managed to go as long as he had without getting caught in whatever illicit activity the bad man had recruited him into doing. "I'll be back shortly. Do you think you can handle looking over the reports on your own for a little while?"

Will looked from his handful of English reading sheets to the piles of Romanian and turned back to his partner with a strained smile. "We can continue this tomorrow." Alex couldn't have looked more relieved.

"Thank you, I would offer you a ride but I'm afraid I'm already running late." Will waved him off and the officer was gone, suit jacket in hand as he abandoned Will with the small pile of files, folders, documents and a map.

At least he'd be able to find his way home this time, with a map in hand and his address scrawled on a note in his phone along with Nigel's and the twins phone number.

Nigel was becoming a whole new problem. One Will needed an answer to and couldn't ignore. "At least there aren't any actual bodies." He reminded himself, the photos, though unpleasant, weren't the same as looking at a corpse. An image was always easier to look at, though their implication was never any easier to digest. Someone had still died and he still needed to bring the monster to justice who had taken that life from them.

Will planted another three circles on the page before him and followed the pattern of a curve with his marker. It wasn't the wide semi-circle he'd been hoping to achieve, but it could have been the beginning of one. He didn't think the direction of each body facing toward the same center point on the edge of sector three was a coincidence, they were being laid out to surround a perimeter, a very small one he suspected to have once been very big.

"A battle for territory and a few visual warnings," Will mumbled to himself, using his own murmurs to break the silence as he sat back to look at the map. "They won't stay in their area, so he's marking the boarder of it for them. Remind them where they belong." It wasn't perfect, still didn't tell him half of what he needed to know to find the one behind it all, but it offered a starting point he hadn’t had before. There was a chance the police might be able to determine the next point for planting a body and, with any luck, intercept their killer before they could make a getaway. Maybe even get a name from whoever had been despatched from the electrical company.

The biggest problem with his plan would remain to be that the unpredictable time of each death. Neither gang wore any distinct symbols he was aware of, a tactic to keep their men safe from the watchful eyes of the police and ultimately each other. With how sporadic the times of death had been, jumping between days and weeks, either the murders were happening on a whim or whenever the opposing group pissed off the one doing the killings.

"Starting point,” He told himself, “Who called for electrical work on the night of the first murder, who was dispatched and where might they strike next." Another call and another file he was going to need Alex to look into when he got back. Feeling useless and wishing he knew more than just English and some half-forgotten Cajun French Will packed up the files and folders for the night to take home and pour over there with a dictionary and translator app. Or at the very least take home and keep together. He didn't think he'd be getting much reading done, the task more likely to make his eyes bleed than offer anything useful.

Shoving his chair back into the table perhaps a little harder than necessary Will gathered up the files and started out into the streets of Bucharest to find his way to a hypermarket and then home. He still desperately needed a kettle.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are mooching food from Alex and Will like puppies begging at the table. Your comments are casting a vote for more sex.


	10. Uninvited Guests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal visits Wolf Trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I'm really excited about the next few chapters of the story, we're really heading into the heart of the story and pretty much what I've been looking forward too since I started writing this fic so many months ago!
> 
> Sadly my writing also gets long so though smut is coming it's being pushed back. ;n; I'm sorry. BUT because it's being pushed back I promise to put in the extra effort on it. C;
> 
> THANK YOU TO EVERYONE READING THIS AND LEAVING ME COMMENTS!!! You're all wonderful people, thank you so much for your support!!! As you can see your lovely support has encouraged me to write a chapter in less then a day. C;

It came with no small sense of relief when Will at last found a café offering free wifi.  Probably the first thing to go right since his argument with Jack regarding his being shipped off to Bucharest.  He wasn’t even frustrated as he fought his way through guessing which button on the Romanian site was 'Accept and Connect'.   
  
Though travel continued to be a trial in patience and determination with the help of his newly downloaded language apps and a map of the city he was able to more or less direct a local cab driver, ignorant to the English language save for a few choice words, to each of the remaining locations of death to locate back alley fire escapes and climb onto roofs.  
  
"He doesn't care for the theatrics."  Will told himself as he stared out over the city from one such rooftop, it was his fourth building since leaving Alex for the day and Will finally felt like a few of the pieces were falling into place.  This killer wasn’t like the Ripper at all, no sense of art to the brutality they offered to the city.  This was a job while the Ripper was a sculptor.  He was sure the Ripper would have seen it as a waste, an opportunity for beauty squandered.    
  
“They have people working for them.”  Will said from where he stood over the drop site of where a body had hung, this one hadn’t been shot.  The man found hanging over the edge had walked off to die with the sudden snap of vertebra.  His death had been the most recent, only a week prior to Will’s arrival.  As he stood on the roof to staring out over the streets Will knew the deaths were being delivered by someone who didn’t care.  This wasn’t there battle, not really, it was an order that they were being paid to finish the job.  Whoever was completing the follow through, they were seeing to it that each of the victims selected were walking themselves over the edge.    
  
“All but one…”  Will reminded himself, all but the woman who’d fought back.  
  
Other than the consistency in death and hanging, that seemed to be where the similarities stopped.  The employee was putting in only enough effort to see the job done in the location directed by their boss, they didn’t’ actually care which way the body was facing when they fell or if they were standing at the right point on the building when they leapt over.  Only that they jumped on the right building face.   
  
The one behind this was trying to send a message with the location of each kill, the location was important, as was using the correct side of the building.  Whoever was planning these wanted the bodies all facing one direction, or more likely, one point.  If the project were being followed through by the one panning it there would have been more of an effort to see each body facing the target they meant to intimidate.  Instead the one leaving them out to hang was abandoning the bodies facing the general direction.  It was the telling that let Will know there was more than one hand at work, that and the electric company Alex would need to contact in the morning.  
  
Feeling as though he were finally making some real headway at last, Will climbed down from the last building.  He groaned as muscles pulled to ache and remind him of the evening before and a man who had yet to leave him mind and produced a small bottle of Aspirin from his pocket.  He dry swallowed two pills and stepped out from behind the building he’d just been scaling and back onto the street.  It was late, the roads darkened with the approaching of midnight and crawling of shadows cast by city streetlights.    
  
The sky gone completely black, moon and stares snuffed by a heavy overcast of clouds threatening rain.  Will didn’t have much time to ponder the approaching weather, a splatter of cool wet drops scattering over his nose and cheeks as he stared up at the sky.  "Of course," He laughed to himself, crossing the street back to the cab he'd left waiting.  He’d count himself lucky for the rain holding off until he’d made it to the last building.  
  
The driver was an older man, his years hitting close to sixty and his English broken and partial at best, but it had been enough for the two of them to fight through a basic conversation between his memory and Will's apps.  His second called for pick up that day and the one with the best sense of English he’d met thus far.  They’d come to an agreement between them for the driver to stick around and cater to Will’s travel needs for a few extra leu’s.  The ability to convey his needs with relative ease had been a much needed reprieve after his hell of a day.   
    Flipping open a note pad he'd picked up when buying the necessary kettle and instant coffee necessary to get him through the trip with the money he’d grabbed from his suit case after walking home from the precinct, Will pointed to his temporary address scrawled on the first page of the note pad, the easiest directions he'd given all night, and found himself home within minutes.    
  
The driver was more than happy to take his pay with a handsome tip and the request of a receipt, a gift for Jack or Morar to worry about later, and gave Will a friendly nod before disappearing down the street.  It was possibly the happiest Will had been to see his temporary home, fishing his keys from his pocket to enter the warmth of the building and escape the wet nights chill.  
  
Feeling that he’d covered more than a little ground considering his handicaps for the day Will was fine with dropping the files he’d spent the day totting onto the small living room table and calling it quits for the night.   
  
He'd make a point of taking Alex with him the following day to re-visit the locations again and see if he could pick up anything noteworthy in the daylight he'd missed in the dark.  He doubted there'd be anything he wouldn't find in the pictures and reports, but it was always worth a second look.  
  
Turning on the lights, Will counted himself lucky as he looked out the window to see that the sky had opened up to pour.  Slipping off his shoes to kick into a corner, neglected but out of the way he looked out into the night, the rain was bouncing off the street, seemingly at eye level thanks to his ground floor window, the drops hitting the ground to spring back into the night another half foot before reaching their final resting place on the street.  It was pretty in a way all nature was when mixed with the city, the little balls of water catching car lights and street lights as they danced in the dark to look like bouncing diamonds on the streets.  He wondered if it was raining at home in Wolf Trap.  
  
Slipping his phone from his pocket he punched the speed dial for Hannibal and fell back onto the lumpy living room sofa.  There was a broken spring in the bottom that had his ass sinking a little too far into the left side of the cushion, it wasn't the best seat in the house but wasn't bad enough to have the profiler sliding over onto the better side either.  
  
As per usual Hannibal answered on the second ring.  "William, I had hoped to hear from you sooner, how is your investigation proceeding?"   
  
Will closed his eyes and tried to picture the sitting room of Hannibal's house, a fire blooming at their side heating his toes to stretch and curl by the flames, a glass of wine at hand to sip as they discussed the topics of the day.  He missed it, more than he thought he would.  
  
"It's going."  He answered plainly.  "I think this trip might be cursed, I never should have accepted."  He tried to imagine which of Hannibal’s crystal glasses he would have in hand, a plain bowl with long elegant stem to hold between his fingers filled with pinto noire, or one of the design frosted wafer thin goblets with fog etched leaves crawling up their sides from a twisting stem meant to look like a branch.  "It seems like anything that could possibly go wrong in this trip will and has."  His fingers flexed to feel the glass of stem wear and he was suddenly brought back to his lumpy couch and empty hand when fingers passed through the nothing held at hand.  
  
He heard the quietly breathed hum of Hannibal’s appreciation for good liquor, a sound he'd learned days into their relationship and felt a smile pull the corners of his lips.  There truly was something about Hannibal that calmed the waters of his mind.  Like nicotine to a smoker he always seemed to take the edge off.  Maybe it was the sense of calm he always seemed to carry around him, as though he lived without fear.  "Would it be intrusive for me to ask what has befallen you during your travels?"  
  
"You already know part of it.  I went thirty-eight hours without sleep thanks to insomnia and an air flight, was immediately brought into the office upon arrival and then passed out with you on the phone."  At the reminder of his last call's end he pried his eyes opened and wandered into the kitchenette to fill the kettle he'd found with fresh water and abandon it on the stove top to boil.  He stopped turning his attention to another bag on the counter and turned the kettle off in favor of the bottle of palinka he'd purchased earlier at the recommendation of the store clerk while he'd been out shopping for the essentials on the little money he still had left.  He had bought it counting it as a part of his 'tourist' portion of the trip, something Hannibal might approve with it being a local brew.  Told to drink it warm he'd left it on the counter.  
  
"Apart from being over tired, which you should recover from sooner than others with the melatonin I left in your bag, your day doesn't sound like the disaster you're making it out to be.  Is it safe to assume there's more to this story?"  Definitely drinking wine, he could hear the pop of wood in the fireplace.  Hannibal loved his fire and wine.  
  
"Once I woke up I thought I'd go hunting for some of that stuff I mentioned missing from the apartment."  
  
"You did mention having, 'no nothing', in the unit before falling asleep."    
  
Will grinned, pouring three fingers of the strange burgundy liquor into a mug.  "It wasn't my most articulate moment," he admitted tasting the heady liquor.  It had an alcohol content of fifty-two and promised pain in the morning if he didn't remember to switch between the spirit and water over the course of the night.  "I went out, tried to keep track of my land marks to find my way back on foot, witnessed a murder, was seen, ran and got lost."  
  
Silence passed on the other side of the line and will could almost see tightening of skin along the doctor’s jaw and the gentle spin of glass in hand to have crimson liquor clinging to crystal walls as he considered the information offered, "I am only mildly reassured that this isn't a ransom call."  Was his decided upon answer, a touch of humor mixed with annoyance at the thought of Will having endangered himself.  "Did you call the authorities?"  
  
"I didn't have the number."  He admitted, "And I was a little distracted."  He took another sip of the rich liquid sliding in the bottom of his mug and licked his lips.  It was good.  He'd have to consider picking up another bottle before he left to bring back to Hannibal.  "I ran into a bar and found your twin.  You never mentioned having a brother before."  
  
"You've met Nigel?"  His tone was flat, void of any emotion for Will to read through the voice of the phone, the face he had been visioning in his mind clouding as he for the first time lost the image of Hannibal to a reaction he had neither experienced nor expected.  "I don't suppose he left a good impression on you."  
  
"He left a lasting impression on me."  He drained the mug and switched to water.  He didn't need another morning like the one he'd had.  Trying to think with a pounding and sleep deprived brain should never have been an option for him.  "Is he part of the mafia or something?"  
  
A hum was his immediate answer, neither amused or un, simply considering.  "He doesn't discuss his business with me I'm afraid.  All I can tell you is that what he does is immoral and you're better off staying clear of my brother."  
  
He'd been hoping for more, but could tell the conversation was over.  He wasn't going to push for anything his friend didn't want to give.  "Is that why you've never mentioned him before?  Because of his chosen employment?"  
  
"No," he didn't sound annoyed, not entirely, "We simply don't talk about family.  Family is private."  Sure enough Will couldn’t think of any lasting conversation pertaining to family outside of a short session during the beginning of their scheduled conversations where they’d spoken on the topic.  A quick discussion of his mother and father once and in turn Hannibal’s own when Will had chosen to be difficult and that had been it.  No other mention of family to be had.  "Was he the one to get you out of the bar?"  
  
"Yeah, took me out the back door and brought me to his place, gave me a place to stay for the night since I didn't know the way back to my own.  Drove me in to work this morning."  He didn't share the details of what they'd done together after he’d arrived, it was a conversation he very much wanted to skip, regret eating at him and making him itch for more of the strong spirit abandoned on the counter  
  
He drank his water instead.  "It sound like you had quite the troubling night.  Why didn't you call the police after your escaped with Nigel?"  
  
"Between the death driving, alcohol, jet lag and meeting your previously unmentioned identical twin I forgot.  I hadn't slept more than five hours in nearly forty-eight by that point.  I wasn't remembering a whole lot of anything that wasn't set directly in front of me."  He dropped his mug in the sink and left the kitchen before he could do anything stupid, like pick up the bottle to take with him.   
  
He wasn't dependent.  Not if he could still step away from the bottle.  
  
"Not your proudest moment then."  Hannibal still didn't quite sound like himself, closer to wanting to ask a question that he wasn't willing to ask.  Will hoped he didn't bother to ask.   
  
"No, it wasn't."  He admitted, turning on the light in his bedroom to look at the half dozen files laid out on his still bare mattress, the ones he hadn’t brought with him to the sites.   Photos and documents with English scribbled sticky notes stuck to their front pages laid out and another note pad riddled with sloppy rushed scrawl laid open.  "During the chase the guys after me managed to get hold of my jacket, I slipped out of it before they could get a better grip on me, but they got my wallet."  
  
He could almost hear the smile now, mild amusement that the profiler simply couldn't catch a break.  "Would you like me to mail something to you?"  Hannibal offered, the clarity of his image in Will’s mind coming through again as he once again knew the man speaking to him through the phone.   
  
"Would you mind?"  Will was closing his eyes again even as he shuffled the papers and folders back together to drop onto the small desk at his bedside, much as he had the first night, a sense of calm talking him with the smooth accented rumble of Hannibal's voice.   
  
"Not at all."  
  
OoOoO  
  
It was just past seven in the evening when Hannibal pulled up the long gravel driveway to Will’s farm house in Wolf Trap, Virginia, the drive had been long but the knowledge of the profilers gratitude for his assistance and an acceptable excuse to rifle through the agents dresser drawers and closet was plenty incentive for the killer to enjoy the long car drive out to the middle of nowhere.  
  
It was a familiar road with familiar surroundings and an unfamiliar end.  Something sitting at the end of his profilers driveway that shouldn’t have been, something that didn’t belong.    
  
Next to Will’s aged Volvo was parked a dark blue Sedan, a car he didn’t recognize as any of the Quantico agents he had been associating with as of late.  Parking his Bentley farther back on the long stretch of dirt road than what might have been socially acceptable for any routine visit, Hannibal shrugged out of his long elegant dress coat and laid it carefully to the side as he opened the glove compartment and slipped a number of discreet slender blades up his sleeve.    
  
"You don't have any family."  Hannibal muttered to himself, climbing out of the car to walk a wide loop around the house through the tall grass of the field to the back kitchen door.  "No one who would visit you at any rate," He crept through the darkness, silent as a snake and took the doorknob in hand, it wasn’t locked, the back door seemingly never secured to the home of the profiler who lived too far out with too little to steal for anyone to take interest in breaking into his home, "so who is in your home?"    
  
He pushed open the door, letting it swing on its hinges wide and slow into the darkened house, slipping off his shoes at the entry he stepped over the threshold on silent sock feet.  He could always say he’d arrived before the intruder should they be anyone with just as much reason to be standing in his profiler’s home as he did, though he doubted the excuse would be needed.    
  
Will would have informed him if he’d been expecting any other guests within his home during Hannibal’s visit.   
  
It was quiet, the kitchen empty of all guests save Hannibal.  He could smell the unwelcome individuals from where he stood in the darkened kitchen, the pair of men stinking of airports and two day clothes.  The sharp clip of Romanian words accompanying the pair as they rifled through dresser drawers and turned over the contents of Will’s methodically arranged desk had the killer taking pause, listening to their exasperated words of distaste at the profiler’s absence.  He touched a drawer, sliding it open to wrap his hand around the handle of an age worn kitchen knife.  His William did like to hold onto things that could be replaced, use them until they had worn through and simply couldn’t be used any more.  His knifes were sharp, the handles telling of years of use while the blades told of a man who kept them sharp as the day they’d been purchased.  
   
Hannibal had long since memorized the house, the placement of every table and lamp, which floor boards creaked when stepped on and which door led to where without needing to look.  A map he had created over numerous anonymous visits to the profiler’s home during his absence.  
  
Moving like a shadow he stepped around the corner leading from kitchen to living room, two men, both armed with guns and stinking of Romania.  He stood behind one, an older man with long copper hair streaked with silver tied in a ponytail at the base of his neck.  The other was younger, short ebony hair slicked with far too much product.  They both wore suits, though nothing as stylish as his.   
  
Caught between the need to question the men standing in a house they should not have been and the need for self-preservation against their firearms.    
  
As always he would find a way to accomplish both.  With a keen knowledge of the human body and an intimate love for taking them apart he pounded the butt of the knife into the closer man’s temple, he crumpled at once, knees giving out beneath him as he was rendered unconscious effortlessly.  
  
“Sorin?”  The younger man turned, brow raised at the unexpected sound of his partners falling.  His eyes narrowed at once as he looked at the man standing over his partners unconscious body, knife and keen maroon eyes trained on his own earthy brown.  “Where is William Graham?”  He demanded with a cool authority he didn’t hold over the more experienced killer in his native tongue, moving the side of his suit jacket to reveal the 9mm holstered to his side.  
  
He had yet to realize to what extent his disadvantage had climbed by keeping his weapon sheathed and threatening the Ripper.  “Why are you looking for Will?”  He offered his own demand in turn, head cocked ever so slightly as he examined the boy and took note of the lovely roasts his legs and thighs would make.  He was lean, toned with just enough fat on his body to promise flavor while not creating an overly fatty piece of meat.  He would greatly enjoy this man marinated in garlic and wine.  
  
“I am the one asking the questions here,” He scolded as though Hannibal weren’t nearly twice his age and pulled the gun from its holster to aim at the cannibal, in the slow fluid motion of a man who’s ego was bigger than himself.   
  
"It's rude to enter another man's home uninvited."  He lectured in turn, dragging a scream from the younger man as the point of his borrowed kitchen knife sank into the flesh of his hand.  He dropped the gun, eyes wide at the sudden violence against him, the moment of panic was more than enough for the Ripper and he charged, slamming himself against the slighter boy to drive the breath from his lungs and crush him against the wall behind him, the strength of his forearm driving into the flesh of his throat.   
  
Hands moved to claw the ripper, the boy desperate for breath as he tried and failed to best a king among monsters.  A knee to his gut sent drew a broken gasping cry and he let the boy fall curling in on himself, "I would like you to tell me what you're doing here."  He kicked away the fallen gun and tore the knife from his hand.  It wouldn’t do to give the boy a weapon, he seemed to live by his arrogance and ego, best not encourage stupid decisions. "As well as why, please."  
  
Choking for breath he looked at the doctor and spat, a thick loogie of snot and spit, the disgusting mass landing on the leg of his pants.  It made the barest curl turn his lip as he looked at the revolting fluid running down his leg.  The disgusting display was followed by nasty Romanian curse involving himself, the man beneath him and his mother’s sex organs.  He drove his heal into the oozing wound of his hand and ground until he felt the crunch of bone beneath his foot and heard the howl of pain break into a sob.  
  
Hannibal decided to give the boys the benefit of the doubt, assumed their ignorance and changed tongues, it had been a while since he'd last spoken Romanian, but it fell from his lips with smooth clarity and only a slight accented curl.  "What do you want with Will Graham and why?"  He pressed his foot a little harder and pulled another scream from the young man he would see into a roast.  
  
“Fuck you,” He hissed in return, teeth ground with anger and pain.    
  
He would sow this boy the true meaning of the word before their evening reached its end.  “I abhor rudeness.”  He explained, slipping the tie from around his neck with a hiss of silk over cotton and crouching to force his arms behind his back and tie them tight.  His body was resisting, still too pained to uncurl and fight back with enough enthusiasm to see himself free.  A second slip of the knife though the boys other palm had the killer threading the tie through his hands to hold them still, before wrapping a a binding to slow the flow of blood at the wrist.  "Stay still, I don't need you loosing anymore blood than you have to."  Not yet.  
  
More or less disabled he decided that the best course of action would be to get their pair out and away from Will’s home before any more evidence of their being present could be stained into the atrocious carpet.  AS it was he was going to need to bleach mop the floor and tell the profiler that his dogs destroyed the rug with a need for the outdoors before he could enter the home and bring them to a kennel.   
  
"I was hoping to make a play this evening," he explained to the still conscious man, locating Will's spool of fishing line.  The thin plastic thread, though not his first choice for binding, was sturdy enough to see the pair through transportation.  Their ultimate deaths would have to wait until he pried the necessary answers from death pleading lips.   
  
It wasn't the entertainment he had been looking for that evening, but he supposed it would do.      
  
OoOoO  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are waving pompoms and cheering on team cannibal, your comments are wondering what the fuck happens next and helping said cannibal load idiots into the trunk.


	11. Rippers Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't piss off Hannibal Lecter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been in such a bad place with this story. The novel version has been giving me some trouble and sadly I stepped away from Seeing Double when I took a break from Cats Cradle. Though I'm still stuck on the novel and some serious character building I did return to the fanfiction~<3
> 
> So this chapter is short but at least I'm looking at the damn fic again. For anyone still reading I hope you enjoy and the next chapter is the one you've all be waiting for.
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> Not beta read.

"Welcome to Hearts Funeral Home."   
  
Hannibal greeted his captives in flawless Romanian as the Bentley’s trunk swung open, filling the space with harsh artificial light.  The men squinted into the illumination; eyes burning after so long trapped in the dark.  They stared up at their captor, squinting to see him as their eyes adjusted to new light, seeing out little more than his silhouetted against the brightness.     
  
Powerless before the Ripper they squirmed in their bindings, shouting beneath their gages.  Hannibal paid no mind to the notable curses he could hear in their throats beneath the thick tape.  “Or what will be Hearts Funeral Home."  He corrected.  They didn’t seem to care for the information provided of their current whereabouts, voices growing louder and struggle harsher as their sight fully adjusted to reveal the man in a plastic suit standing above them.    
  
It was a futile battle, one neither man would win against the fishing line that held them and one Hannibal would end all too quickly if either were to break the thickly wound binding.    
  
He stepped out of sight, leaving the pair to adjust to the new surroundings as he sought their next form of transportation.  "This establishment is still under construction, it won’t be open for a few more weeks.”  He explained to the unwilling tourists locating a bier.  “Paint and furnishings I do believe.”  He explained first moving one and then the other onto the bier, moving the pair as though they were no more than struggling children and not the full grown men attempting to fight back.  
  
Closing the trunk he began toward a pair of double doors, long steady strides carrying the men ever closer to their ending moment.  He could smell their fear, the scent of it sour with sweat and growing anxiety as he pushed them through large swinging doors and into the processing room.    
  
Rolling a steel table weighted with bodies, sampling the overpowering scent of industrial bleach and embalming fluid, Hannibal’s was peaked with nostalgia; memories of his younger years as an intern at John Hopkins drifting to the forefront of his memory palace.  It was a time before his becoming, when the darkness prowling beneath his skin was still but smoke and steel waiting to take form into something defined with teeth and claws.   
  
Releasing his hold on the pair he stepped away from the bier, leaving them to their own devices as he searched for his next piece of necessary equipment.  A touch of amusement curved his mouth when the younger threw himself from the bier, landing with a sound of discomfort on the laminate floor.  He hissed with a pain he would soon remember as a kiss compared to the nightmare he was about to live.    
  
Locating a chair he set the furnishing in the center of the room before gathering the fallen young man from the floor to force into the seat.  He resisted, forcing his body ridged against the Ripper’s strength and was forced to succumb with the harshly driven pain of pressure points, body quickly restrained with a few additional rounds of tape.  “If you would wait a moment, I will be right with you.”  He assured the boy with a flash of crooked teeth in a smile.    
  
With the younger settled he turned his attention back to the older, his movements were slower than his partners, pain and blood loss leaving him weak in his struggles.  “You and I are going to have a conversation.”  Hannibal explained, shifting him once more from the bier to a second stretcher, one made with the curve of a crescent moon to its bed.  “I found you in a place you did not belong.”  He said in pleasant reprimand, stepping away to turn the valve of a large cylinder machine, its circular door swinging open on quiet hinges.  “I would like to know why.”  He informed the man of his demand turning back to him.  
  
Another deep throated growl sounding far too close to a curse for the man’s continued heath sounded from beneath the silver tape of his gage.  Hannibal regarded him with darkening maroon eyes, a warning the Romanian could not know how lucky he was to receive.  It was one many before him had not been privy to and one he would only receive once.   
  
Patting the man down he found his wallet, an aged leather piece bought too long ago to make out the brand printed into the hide.  It was a piece in desperate need of replacing, something he would have expected to find on his dear William’s person.  "Mr-"  He paused, brows raising as he looked at  the drivers licence that did not belong to the man on the bed.  A pair of quiet stormy blue eyes staring back at him from an apathetic face framed with chocolate curls.  His sweet William looking back at him from the insert of the worn leather, "How did you come by this?"  Another pat down provided him with the man’s own wallet, his Romanian drivers licence tucked away safe inside a much newer piece of soft tan lamb skin.  "You shouldn't have this Mr. Ungur.”  He told the swine who should have been quaking; the Ripper’s words flat his tone level.  It was a dangerous line he’d crossed, “This doesn't belong to you."  
  
It had been one thing to find the men rummaging through his profilers house, it was another to know that said profiler may be abducted.   
  
Or worse.  
  
Hannibal didn’t like other people touching his things, not without his permission.   "I would like you to tell me where you got this."  
  
He stood above Ungur, watching his face contort with pain and anger as he whaled what Hannibal could only imagine to be pleading as that was the intelligible course of action when bound and gagged before a serial killer in a morgue.    
  
Nimble fingers gripped the corner of the tap wrapped past the old man’s ear and tore the painful strip of adhesive from skin.  It earned a cry that would have had a small twist coming to the sadist lips if not for the possible disposition of his profiler.   
  
"You sick cunt!"  Ungur whaled, arching off the table.  The man was shaking, jerking in his bindings with renewed strength as he fought a losing battle against the fishing line to be free.    Hannibal didn't doubt the crass man would have spat at him a second time had he the saliva to do so.  
   
“Please answer the question.”    
  
“Eat my cock!”  
  
The man was either very loyal or very simple.  Hannibal had neither the time nor patience for either.  Gripping the steel table by its side he rolled it toward the machine, “I do not tolerate rudeness or fools Mr. Ungur and you are most certainly both."  His face paled as the foot of the trolley bumped against the machine, his sense of self-preservation awakening as realization finally found him.  There would be no torture for questioning.  He had been given his one chance and he had been found useless.    
  
“Wait!”  The Ripper gripped him by his belt and shirt, sliding him over the smooth metal with ease into the darkened tube, pushing him inch by inch deeper into the enclosed space by his shoulders until Hannibal’s arm was part way down the tube and the man’s shoes bumped against the tunnels base.  "I'm sorry!"  He screamed what should have been the first words out of his mouth, emotionless maroon eyes watching him through the opening of the door.  "I'm sorry, please, I'll tell you anything!"  
  
The twist of a cruel smile curled thin lips, "This is an alkaline hydrolysis processor,” he explained, watching as tremors shook though him, terror filled eyes watching him like a malevolent God, “more commonly known as a Bio-Cremator."  He gripped the heavy metal door, easing it shut to seal in the screaming swine within, pausing in its close to allow the barest crack of light to filter through the darkness, illuminating the man's withering face for Hannibal to see his fear and desperation, smell his terror like a musk, he presented the last words Sorin Ungur would ever hear.  "You're about to have your body broken down to its chemical foundation.”  They were words he may have rather never know, “It will be reduced to fertilizer in a solvent of lye and water in a high pressure container for the next three and a half hours at a heat of three hundred and twenty degrees, though you will most likely drown long before it reaches heat."  He slide the door closed and twisted the valve.  
  
Only the barest murmurs could be heard, the quiet banging of feet against the thick metal casing quieting his screams to a whisper, the soft sound of his pleas becoming lost to the quiet hum of the machine as it began to fill and the Ripper turned his gaze to the man in the chair.  "The alkaline hydrolysis processor is occupied, but the cremation furnace is still available.  I would be more than happy to show you how it works.”  He noted a dark spot on the front of the boy’s trousers and ignored the sharp unpleasant scent that tainted the air.  Closing the short distance between them he crouched before the boy suddenly looking very much his own age, the bravado that had brought him to that moment disappearing in wide fearful eyes.  Hannibal gripped the tape silencing him by its edge, "Or, we can have a conversation.  Which would you prefer?"  He tore it free.  
  
OoOoO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are screaming the countdown for season 3, your comments are nudging the writing for the climax chapter to hurry up and be written.


	12. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't wanna ruin this but you've been waiting for it since chapter three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!
> 
> I HOPE YOU ALL LOVE IT THIS CHAPTER MAKES ME HAPPY!!!! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
> 
> Nigel is a mother fucker and a prick. For anyone who's forgotten I have a disclaimer at the beginning of this story about how unhealthy ALL of this is relationship wise. This is a horrible situation and an awful romance story...and though I don't recommend anyone EVER date someone like these men, I love it~<3
> 
> ALSO, this chapter is for Milky Way. Thank you for helping me feel amazing darling.
> 
> Enjoy the update my darlings~<3
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not beta read.

Will woke six hours later to the irritating chime of his alarm singing from his phone. That meant it was seven, sun climbing the sky to greet early morning joggers and drag groggy profilers from the bare mattress of their bed.

“I need to buy some sheets…” He groaned, stretching until he felt something in his shoulder give a gratifying pop and a sharp ache in the other. He needed a shower. The sharp scent of stale sweat clinging to his skin, his shirt was soaked with it and he didn’t want to think of the permanent marks that would start forming on the mattress if he didn’t bother to get some proper bedding soon.

Groaning he grabbed his phone and killed the alarm. There was no message waiting for him when he rolled out of bed this morning, only the soft glow of dawn creeping through the curtains of his window and the play of shadows across his floor. He wished they were shadows playing over the furry mounds of sleeping dogs and the light crawling over his feet was the press of cold noses. He missed his dogs.

He still hadn’t had a chance to Skype or record any teaching sessions yet and the thought of sitting down in front of his lap top long enough to talk to a black screen mirroring his face was more daunting then the idea of an early start on the case. He was still tired, the days passing too fast and dragging on all at the same time, leaving him drained. He wasn't sleeping right still, not that he slept all that well at home to begin with, but the unfamiliar surroundings and sense of insecurity had left him more than a little restless.

"The sooner I finish this, the sooner I get to go home." He reminded himself, turning his mind toward thoughts of killers and victims and questionable partners. He briefly wondered if Alex would be feeling any better that morning as he found his way to the bathroom and if there was any point in reporting to the office or if he should grab a coffee and hit the streets.

If he skipped the office it would give him the extra few minutes to get ready and maybe eat something substantial before heading out. It wasn't like he had a whole lot to be reporting on just yet anyway, there was only so much a man could do on his own in a foreign city. Stripping the borrowed clothes to pool on the floor he stepped into the shower, turning the knobs to be blasted with a moment of cold that shocked him a little more awake and made him curse before the warmth of water hot enough to rival the fires of Mordor fell upon his skin and stopped.

He pushed in the hook on the spout down for water to drain back through the faucet before pulling it for the shower, trying to force the redirection water. It didn't work. A trickle sprinkled down from the shower head to splash against the bottom of the tub and warm his toes with lukewarm water. Letting the hook fall he watched the trickle change to the bath faucet and pool around his feet. "God hates me." He decided stepping out of the tub to find his coffee cup in the sink where he'd left it. Grabbing the porcelain he walked back to the bathroom, rinsed it with the little water pouring from the tap and filled it with enough frigid water to dump over his head.

The pressure, the hot water, was completely gone.

He sat on the side of the tub, dripping onto the floor as he combed fingers through damp curls and cursed again before grabbing his phone.

They needed to talk anyway.

"Hey Nigel, can I use your shower?"

OoOoO

Nigel was waiting for him by the door when Will's cab pulled up to the condo, the bad man opening the drivers side to drop a number of bills Will didn’t catch the value of into the drivers lap and say something in Romanian to the man before walking around to pull Will away from the cab and into the building. He really needed to pick up a book on fucking Romanian.  "I'm able to pay for my own taxi." He pointed out as he was led upstairs, "I have money."

"You have limited funds." Nigel countered almost knowingly. "Shipped off to Bucharest at the drop of a hat, I doubt they gave you a wad of cash to take with you." The smile he gave him made something warm twist in Will’s stomach.

"I'm being reimbursed." He admitted; it was a good way of controlling spending while away. Money would be limited to his usual income and he wouldn't spend any more than he needed. Not that he would have taken advantage of any cash provided. “I’m being _borrowed_. I’m not employed here.”

"Well I don't mind paying for a cab if it means getting to see you in the morning." He said with a voice like honey and molasses, closing the door to lock behind them as they entered the confines of his home. "Well worth the money, but if you’re feeling guilty about it you could always save me the trouble by staying here."

Will adjusted the bag in his hand as he felt the slide of one broader along his hip, a plume of smoke skirting over his skin as thin lip pressed his nape in a kiss. He turned in the bad man’s hold to face him and watch as Nigel as he blew the last puff of smoke from his cigarette to snub the cherry in an ashtray on the island. "I don’t think staying here would be such a good idea. But you could relieve my guilt by letting me pay for my own cab. You're not made of money either, how much was it?"

"Anything that keeps you in close proximity is a good idea,” He purred, “It doesn't matter." His hands were on him again, sliding around the curve of his waist. "So, did you only come by to use the shower?"

"I was hoping we could talk." He didn't lean into him, but he didn't pull away either. He should have. But a piece of him was enjoying the attention and the pleasant memory of their night together. "I need to know what you were talking about with Alex."

He hummed, smile broad as he buried his face in Will's neck to ghost kisses over his skin, "No you don’t."

It didn't last, the profiler pushing the broader man back with a twist of lips in his own mockery of a smile. "I need to know what you do for a living. I need the truth on you, or this-whatever this is-is over."

He let Will push him away, the hand on his chest keeping a foot of space between them he wasn't feeling partial to. "I don't discuss business darling, confidentiality. You know how it is."

"That's what Hannibal told me too. Not good enough." He shrugged, "I need to know or I need to cut ties."

"You asked Hanni about me? What did _big brother_ have to say?" He let Will go, let his hand slid along the curve of waist and hip he wanted to feel canting against him and stepped deeper into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee on, Will hadn't seen the coffee machine on the counter before. Either the man had dug it out from under the counter some place or he'd picked one up to keep Will in caffeine. He really needed to find out exactly how much the pair had discussed about him and his preferences.

"He said your business was immoral and that I should stay away from you." Will accepted a cup of coffee smelling of the same delicious roast he'd been enjoying from every cafe he'd visited thus far. He didn't doubt he'd be ruined for his usual swill once he got home.

"Is that all Hanni had to say about me?" He laughed and it was a low deep rumble that made another rush of something foolish swim in his stomach. He felt like he was dealing with a teen crush, the man was a bad influence, "A better description than I'd been expecting." He sipped his own dark brew, licking his lip to catch the lingering taste of caffeine, no cream or sugar in his ebony drink.

Will took a sip of his own, sweet and dark and everything that made his affair with coffee a real thing. "What were you expecting?"

"I was expecting Miss Manners to tell you whatever it took to have you running from me." Which apparently wasn't much; he probably thought he had a better grip on Will than he really did, that was certainly going to piss off his brother once his figured it out. Hannibal never did take well to being wrong.

"I'm starting to wonder if you two even like each other." Will took another sip of coffee and climbed onto the bar stool.

"Oh?" Dark eyes met his own, a pale brow raising in question. "What makes you think that we don't?"

"Both of you are warning me against the other and neither of you seem too close to the other. You've told me more about Hannibal, but I think that has more to do with my asking questions than any real desire to discuss your brother; while he's never even mentioned you before."

"Like I said before, family is private. He wouldn't discuss me and I won’t discuss him, generally. It's just the monsters that we are."

"Monsters?"

"Oh yes, Hanni and I get along great. But that's because we're one in the same, two sides of the same coin. But two predators of that variety can't co-exist, so I moved to Bucharest." He was watching him, reading Will the way Will read thousands of others. The man was smarter than he looked, hiding a mind keen as Hannibal’s behind the disheveled appearance of a thug.

"You're not winning any point in your favor Nigel. Hannibal has yet to do anything that could be described as being remotely 'monstrous' that I’ve seen. He's a therapist. Not a murderer. Though, you're starting to sound very much like the ladder." He set his coffee to the side. "Any chance you want to discuss that?"

He snorted a laugh and sipped his coffee, he wasn't detoured in the slightest. "If it’ll reassure you gorgeous, alright, what do you want to know?"

It was too easy, he wasn't expecting easy. "Tell me about your job." He started, earning a considering look from his host.

"I'm a hand for hire and a jack of all trades." He answered while not.

"What sort of jobs?" Will pushed.

"Whatever the money is good for." He shrugged nonchalant; neither of them new to this game.

Will wondered how many times Hannibal had bailed his younger brother out of jail. "Do you kill people?"

"Do you really want to know the answer to that?" He countered, pulling his trovac from the back waist of his pants to set on the counter beside him. "The people who die in my line of business know it’s coming. They're not good people. Not the kind of people you're trying to protect."

It went against everything Will believed in to sit there and drink coffee with a man he knew was a killer.

"You kill people and I'm a profiler who works to catch killers." He laughed, looking at the weapon of death on the counter across from him.

His stomach was twisting, heavy knots making the profiler nauseous as he sat there sipping his coffee with faux calm. There was a chance he wouldn't be leaving again if this was the way their conversation was going. "You are. But you're not about to rat me out and I’m not about to off you."

"Why not?" He didn't pull away from Nigel as he walked around the island, standing behind Will to give homage to his neck, pressing lips to one of the dark colored kisses he'd bitten into his throat a few nights before.

"Because not a lot of people play attention to you and it feels good to be wanted." He nipped the bruise, earning a sharp intake of breath from the man he adored.

"That doesn't make you safe." He argued drinking his coffee and wishing it were something stronger.

"Doesn't it?" He kissed his way up neck, catching the lobe of his ear between teeth to tug, the rasp of overnight growth scratched Will's throat. It made his cock jump. "I don't think you'll do it gorgeous. You have too much riding on this to be turning in a man you have no proof of killing anyone." His hand snaked along the side of his thigh. "You tell them I'm a killer with no evidence to hold up in court and I'll walk away a free man. But you'll be out the opportunity of two friends and a very probable lover."

He ditched his cup on the island wishing it was whiskey and leaned into the man at his back, let the touch of fingers drift beneath the hem of his borrowed shirt to trace the flesh of stomach hidden beanth and feel muscles jump. "What else do you do?"

"I'm not telling." He kissed him again; hand finding the growing mound in Will's pants that was peeking his interest.

"Don't trust me?" He leaned his head back against a broad shoulder and let the exploring lips search out his skin to map with teeth he'd forbidden only two nights before. He didn't care, Nigel was right.

It felt good to be wanted.

"Not yet." He sucked another mark into the beautiful canvas of Will's flesh and led him away from the counter toward the bathroom. "Trust is earned darling, you came into my home to threaten me. Not a very good way to earn trust." He took his shirt by the tails and pulled it overhead, broad hands falling to the slighter man’s shirt to pull free and reveal plans of creamy skin waiting to be ruined like fresh fallen snow.

"So there's no evidence of killing but I could find evidence of the rest?" Like illegal sex in the back room of the strip club.

He didn't doubt there would be drugs mixed into the picture somewhere as well.

Yet, he still lifted his arms for gun calloused hands to pull his shirt overhead and let his fingers fall on button and fly to free himself of the denim becoming too tight. He hissed a breath when one of those hands found their way to his boxers and under elastic. "Some people deserve to die Will, is that so hard to believe?"

It wasn't. He'd seen enough blood and murder in the world to know that some monsters needed to be put down. But that wasn't the way the world worked, not in most places. Not where he was from where a pedophile could get off with only five years in prison for molestation and confirmed possibility of reoffending. Some people needed to die. He didn't disagree with that.

But that didn't mean that those were the kinds of people that Nigel was killing.

"Tell me more about your victims." He reached behind him, combing fingers though bed tousled ashen hair as he stepped out of his clothes and toed off his socks.

"I don't discuss business darling, stop asking." He groped the mound of his ass, letting the profiler go to step into the glass stall of his shower as he opened his own jeans, dropping his pants to pool on the floor and kick off his briefs to join.

Pausing he turned to the top bathroom drawer, a dresser he’d had installed years ago for keeping his Gabby’s things neat and out of the way in the bathroom. It created more space for storage without compromising the spacious bathroom. He pulled open the top drawer and took his time carefully moving the towels.

Lube in hand he stepped into the glass stall and grinned as Will looped his arms around powerful shoulders and leaned in to steal a kiss, feeling the press of hard muscle and a thick cock against him. "What were you doing in the drawer?"

"You're nothing but questions." He reached past him, grabbing the knob to turn a rain of beautifully heated water to rain upon them, "I thought this might work better with a little lube." He held up a bottle of lubricant for Will to see, "Unless you have a certain masochistic streak I don't know about?"

"Not for that." He snorted, feeling the growing excitement mixed with arousal he’d enjoyed their first night and wondered exactly how much the alcohol had been to blame in the first place. "And I came over to get clean. Not start a fight and get dirtier."

"I promise you'll be plenty clean by the time I'm done." A finger greased to the knuckle pressed between the mounds of Will’s ass to push against his opening, slipping into his passage to have Will's toes curling, breath stolen with the sudden intrusion as he felt that digit move, push him open and find the bundle of nerves that made him want to scream with uncanny ease.

"I still need answers Nigel," He panted against hard skin, another finger joining the first and his head rocked back, the pallor of his neck left for the taking by the bad man who moved in to trail kisses from collar to jaw, scissoring to open the man withering in his arms as he indulged.

"I don't discuss business Will," He bit hard enough to make him jerk and pushed in a third, catching the leg that moved over his hip with the stretching pressure building inside. He felt full, so full, but not nearly as full as he was going to be, not when Nigel was through.

Will shuttered as stretching digits found the little ball of nerves that made him twist and bend in pleasure, gripping the bad man tighter as fingers ran against his pleasure. "A-answers," He demanded again, finding himself suddenly empty as Nigel pulled free, slicking his swollen cock with the extra. He swallowed, grip tightening as his other leg was hoisted to encompass Nigel’s waist and the bad man balanced them against the sliding glass.

“No.” He kissed him again, hard and bruising as his cock found Will’s hole and thrust inside, filling him to the core.

His breath hitched, moans swallowed by the mouth that claimed his in kisses, devouring the sound of his pleasure. "D-damn-it Nigel," he arched into him, reaching between them to take his own flesh in hand and pump it to the rhythm of the cock thrusting inside. It felt good, better than it had any right to and he hated himself for loving it so much with a killer.

"Stay." Nigel panted his demand, stilling buried inside to drag a needy noise from Will when the pleasure was suddenly stopped. "Stay with me for a week." He pushed wet curls back from the profiler’s stormy eyes, forcing their gaze to meet his own as he had commanded of them before, "Stay with me for one week and I'll tell you what I do."

He squirmed, feeling the pressure of Nigel’s swollen head pressing into prostate as he sat mounted on the powerful man who held him righted. "O-one week?" He let his head fall back against the glass, lolling to the side for the mouth that followed his throat. He could feel the cool of the shower door he was balanced against seep into his cheek and it was doing nothing to aid his thinking, now with Nigel hard against him, deep within him, the fire of his mouth sucking marks of owning against his throat.

"One week. You stay with me for one week and I'll show you what I do." He nosed his face back to meet his own and captured lips in a kiss. Gentle and soothing and nothing like the marks that littered his neck, "This thing between us, I have to be honest with you, it's driving me a little crazy."

"You're dangerous, possessive and obsessive."

"And you're enjoying every moment of it darling, don't tell me you’re not. This is a devotion you've never been privy to before, it's consuming and chaotic and entirely for you." He kissed him again. "I don't cheat, I abhore it."

"But you'll steal."

"I'll always steal." He grinned like a bastard and thrust to drive a moan from the balancing man who clung to him in reward. "Will you stay darling?"

"Yes,” He gasped, “I'll stay." The sudden kiss that pressed against him was consuming, Nigel’s excitement a physical thing as he crushed Will to him, a gentle rocking beginning between them as he held him close, fucked them as one. Will forced his eyes to meet with Nigel’s giving the bad man what he wanted; drowning in pleasure he was rewarded with the raw desire he found burning within them for him and him alone. It was overwhelming, the want he could see there, was beyond sexual desire, it was utter devotion. An all-consuming love directed toward him by this man who had only ever known him in stories.

He'd never seen such devotion directed at him before, never felt the desire from one human being to another where he himself were involved, it was giving him a high he never wanted to come down from.

He ground down against the cock filing him, twisted to meet the rocking thrusts that pushed into him from below. It was too much and not enough all at once. His thumb flicked over the weeping head of his cock as he felt another push of Nigel's flesh deep within and he was done, pushed over his edge to spill his heated seed between them, hot spurts slicking Nigel's chest to be washed down their bodies by the rain of water that pounded against Nigel's back.

Will wasn't in love, not with Nigel, but he didn't have to be for this. A relationship might have been too much to try and balance with the killer from Bucharest, but a friend with benefits? One who knew what to do with him to leave him lightheaded and reeling? He’d give it a try.

Nigel's thrusts were flagging; the man's pace faltering as his own peak come so close. He held Will's hips tight enough to bruise, buried himself and groaned as he emptied his heat deep inside the profiler. "You're not just agreeing for the sex are you darling?" He asked with a grin.

Will smiled giving his friend with benefits lazy kisses as he relaxed into him, let him slip free from his body and help ease Will to his feet. "No, it was the working shower and free coffee." The comment earned him a biting kiss, one that had his smile growing wider and an ache in his chest wishing it was something that could last.

"I'll get you a towel, make some breakfast while you finish washing." Nigel offered one more kiss before letting him go, releasing Will only once sure the profiler wasn’t about to fall over and could stand on his own. Leaving his darling to the rain of hot water he stepped out of the shower, closing the door carefully behind his oblivious lover to return to the towel drawer he had left ajar. The grin that split his face was nothing kind as he picked up the phone he had left peeking just over the towels and smiled into the skype feed before hanging up, pulling a towel from the drawer to leave folded on the toilet.

He slipped on his jeans, pocketing the phone before leaving to handle breakfast for the man rinsing his cum from his body. He felt like a God as he stepped out of the bathroom, sending a quick text to his brother as he stepped into his kitchen, barefoot and dripping.

OoOoO

Hannibal stood in the kitchen of his home, leaning back against his marble counter, a glass of rich and heady zinfandel in hand he scented and sipped, watching with the stillness of a cobra as the man he was chasing gasped and moaned over his brother shoulder, his back pressed against the steaming glass of the shower stall the man screaming his orgasm as he shuttered his end in Nigel’s arms, his brother buried as he emptied himself within, his seed spilling to paint Will’s core. _His_ Will.

He leaned back, lips pursed as he watched his brother leave the stall to approach the phone balanced against towels to peek over the terry top. He grinned at him with that ever familiar smile, the one he used when he thought he was about to get away murder, ending the call with that ever familiar, ever irritating grin.

Hannibal touched the thick brown paper of the package sitting on the counter beside him, ready for airmail as he watched the betrayal end before him and the screen light up with his brother’s incoming text.

_He's mine._

"Is he?" He smiled, dropping his phone onto the counter as he turned back to the box, tearing the paper free to empty it onto the counter, Will's wallet sliding out over the marble top.

He stepped through the dining room and into the sitting room, settling into a chair by the fire as he picked up his iPad, "I think you’re wrong." His smile broadened as he typed a url and watched the system load.

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are drawing faces on the mirror, your comments are digging trenches for the war.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, other than the last paragraph of the story this is my favorite part.


	13. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little domestic fluff and a visit to a crime scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone and thank you. The love and support I've been receiving for my recent updates has been nothing short of awe inspiring and I have never felt more driven to work on this story and in turn my novel then ever before. I feel like I can write again and that it is enjoyed and loved and wanted even when I think I'm only delivering dry worthless crap necessary to plot building. 
> 
> Thank you, everyone who has taken the time to write me a review or leave me a kudo, you've made me so incredibly happy. 
> 
> Also freaky phsyched that no one saw the phone thing coming, I've had that part planned since I started writing this gem. So glad it was enjoyed. Seriously love you all~<3
> 
> I own nothing...yet. 
> 
> Not beta read.

"If you leave me the keys to your place I can pick up your stuff while you're working."  Nigel offered, setting a plate of scrambled egg and toast in front of the fucked-out profiler, It was a meal Will hadn’t been expecting and was grateful for all the same.  
  
His first impression upon entering the condo was that this was a man would eat whatever he didn’t have to cook himself.  The state of the cook wear he was using suggested it was either new or something he’d had in storage and decided to pull out for Will’s benefit.  "You don't trust me with your job and you expect me to leave you my room key?"  He took a bite of fluffy egg; it was over cooked but not bad.  Nothing like Hannibal’s cooking and closer to Will’s own.  "No, you can wait.  I'll take another cab to your place with my suitcase later."  A bite into juicy pan fired sausage had Will forgiving the dry eggs.  "This is really good, thanks for feeding me.  
  
"Thanks for staying."  He leaned over the island, pecking his not-quite-lover on the cheek.  
  
It was a simple gesture and meant a hell of a lot more to the profiler than it should have.  Overall it was a nice moment they were sharing together, domestic in a way he’d never had the chance to experience thanks to his incompetence with relationships and woman and it made him feel guilty that he was going to have to ruin it.  It was a moment he wanted to last.  "Nigel, I need you to tell me what you said to Alex yesterday."  
  
The bad man turned off the stove and grabbed his own plate, walking around the island to join Will on a stool.  "And I said trust had to be earned."  He grinned taking a bite of sausage.  "Is that what all your pushing was about?  You want to know what I do so you can know what I said to Alex?"  
  
William shrugged, it was information he needed to know.  "He doesn't trust me anymore.  That's a dangerous thing to have with a partner, especially when they're the one watching your back with a gun."  
  
He hummed his understanding, taking a contemplative bit of egg and making a face.  "These are dry you lying little shit.”  He snorted a laugh and washed away the taste with a scalding sip of coffee, “I told him I needed a package picked up, the usual."  
  
"And the part about me?"  He'd heard his name dropped between them and he hadn't forgotten.   
  
"I asked him to be careful with you."  He said answered taking another deep swallow of coffee.  It burned his throat in a way he could appreciate, "If he doesn't trust you it's because he doesn't know your angle, what you're doing with me."  He shrugged, "You can tell him the truth but I doubt it’ll help."  He snorted a laugh, “Knowing that squeaking cunt it’ll probably make his paranoia worse.”  
  
"So I can't convince my partner that I'm safe?"  He pushed away an empty plate and made the mental note to pick up something for dinner on his way back.  Take a turn 'cooking'.  
  
"He'll come around."  Dark eyes watched as Will slid off his stool, taking his plate and mug to the sink.  It was a good view, appreciated within his home, like a piece of art he could touch and be touched back by.  He discovered he liked watching the profiler move with comfort and ease throughout his home, washing the dishes and laying them to drying rack as if he’d always belonged there.  But he knew they were the motions of habit and little done in the way his benefit beyond an appreciation for letting him use his shower.  Will lived alone; he was use to cleaning up after himself.  
  
"This pan is new."  He stated plainly, looking over his shoulder to the killer behind him finishing leathery eggs and juicy sausage, "Did you buy a cooking set?"  
  
He deposited his dishes in the water for Will to clean, "Not new, just used rarely enough to make it seem that way.  Same thing with the coffee pot, I've had them for years."  
  
"Lazy?"  Will thought it was a good guess given the additional dishes.  Not that he could complain, kettle and pot.  He was a natural procrastinator himself.  Picking up the plate he started on the newly deposited dishes, a pair of strong arms sneaking around his waist as suds soaked his elbows.  He was surprised how much he didn't mind it; standing at the sink cleaning up with a gun on the counter and the embodiment of chaos holding him close.  
  
He felt wanted.  It outweighed the guilt.   
  
"Partly," Nigel admitted, feeling Will's cell phone vibrate against him, he reached into denim and retrieved the small device for him, "Mostly I just really like what the surroundings menus have to offer."  He glanced at the name and answer the phone and holding the device up to the profiler’s ear who noted the action for being both nosy and appreciated, drying his hands on a towel to take the phone from warm dry fingers.  
  
It was one of the most domestic moments of his life and he found himself wanting more.  The idea of lounging with the man on his couch sipping whiskey and watching movies almost as appealing as the prospect of sex…maybe not as much as sex.  Will was really, really enjoying getting off with another human being.  
  
"Hello?"  He answered, letting the bad man remain wrapped around his waist, chin resting on the shoulder opposite his phone.  
  
"We found another body."  Were the quick words that greeted him through the receiver, having the profiler pull from the grip that had seemed so comfortable only a moment before.  "Hung himself, shot through the head.  It's almost identical to the first case."  
  
"Text me the address, I'll be in the next available cab."  He hung up turning to face the man slipping a cigarette between his lips to light with a zippo.  "Do you have anything to do with this?"  He watched his screen light up with a street address he would never be able to pronounce, it was why he'd asked for it to be texted, the last thing he needed was to be dropped off half way across town because he said the wrong damn street name.   
  
"I can't answer that."  He said smoothly, taking a long slow drag off his smoke, leaning against the counter.  "But, if I did it was only what they deserved."  
  
He watched him, the mirror image of his ever proper psychiatrist, leaning back against the counter bare feet and bare backed, jeans hanging loose around his hips and hair still damp from their shower.  A confessed killer with no remorse for the blood on his hands; Will should have been weary of him, resentful.    
  
But he wasn't.    
  
For the first time in his life he wanted to protect a monster.   
  
He was attracted to it.  
  
Then again, maybe he'd always been.  He looked at bodies too often to count, watched blood spill and caught the monsters guilty of it.  He drank to forget, erase the corpses from his mind that haunted him day and night -but he always went back.  
  
He didn’t need the money.  Between the thesis he’d had published and his teaching career he could refuse the profiling without financial repercussions.  With the effect looking had on his mental health he had every reasonable excuse to refuse…and still he kept going back.  Partly for guilt, Jack made damn sure Will wouldn’t be sleeping at night if he refused; a harassment lawsuit waiting to happen; and partly because he liked it.   
  
The question he'd been avoiding for years was, why?  
  
"Hypothetically speaking, what did they do to deserve it?"  He coaxed, bringing up the number for a local cab company.  "Don't answer that with business, this is hypothetical."  
  
"Really?"  Nigel grinned, taking another long drag from his cigarette as the man he wanted to keep watched him from the opposite end of the counter. "Hypothetically?”  He pursed his lips in thought, tapping off the cherry from the tip of his smoke, “Alright, hypothetically the guys being hung are a part of the sex trade, drug sales and the Romanian mob.  They're hands are black with blood.  They’re no one the worlds gonna miss darling,” another long drag of tobacco, an exhale of sweeping smoke, “No one who doesn't deserve it."  
  
Will watched as curls of silver danced through the early morning light, catching beams through the window with floating dust to make the plume look like gold.  Will didn't like cigarettes.  They smelt bad and tasted worse.  But Nigel seemed to pull off the nicotine stick as though it were an accessory, one he was starting to like the lingering flavor of against his tongue.  That might have had something to do with the taste of vanilla in the smoke.  "But that's not why you'd kill them, only the reason why I shouldn't mind that you're doing it.  You're trying to justify why I shouldn't care, they're bad people.  They don't deserve to live.  You're a bad person, what makes you so much better?"  
  
"I deserve to die just as much as any other thug on the street darling, I'm just better at ducking the ferry man."  He said with another cloud of smoke, snubbing out a half-finished cigarette in an ashtray.  "I can't tell you why I do it darling," He closed the space between them, pressing his mouth to Will's in a kiss, "That would be business."  Slipping the phone from his hand he dialed the number and ordered a cab for the profiler who could barely give directions.  "I'll see you tonight.  You can tell me all about your case over dinner.”  He gave him back his phone, “Maybe I’ll fill in a couple blanks."  
  
"Alright,” he wasn’t expecting many of those blanks to be filled, not until the week was over and Nigel was trying to stretch it into a second.  But at least the man wasn’t lying to him.  “I'll text you when we're done.  There’s a chance I might not be home tonight if I find a lead."  They shared another kiss, casual and endearing, it made Will want to call in sick and spend his afternoon with the psychopath.  Instead he offered one last smile before stepping away.  
  
"I'll be waiting."  Nigel promised, closing the door behind Will as he left.  Once his darling was safe and sound out the door he fished his own phone from his pocket and dialed through to Alex, a thin cruel smile stretched his lips when the offer picked up on the fourth ring.  Alex didn't want to talk to Nigel, he feared him and Nigel liked it that way.  "Alexandru,” he purred, envisioning the younger man’s pain and fear as he strolled to the kitchen window and peeked out between the blinds, watching his profiler disappear into the cab, “I have a chore for you."  
  
OoOoO  
  
Alexandru Vasilescu was a 32 years old man who’d married his high school sweet heart, had two kids and paid mortgage on a beautiful home in the heart of Bucharest.  Growing up he’d always wanted to be an officer, something he'd worked for and felt great pride in his success of achieving.  Every year he booked a week vacation for him and his wife to go camping next to one of Bucharest’s great fishing ponds and spend some time away from the kids and noise of the city.  
  
He lived the sort of life many might call apple pie, one of those unheard of happily ever after’s people so often read about and never saw.  It was simple and perfect and everything he’d ever wanted right up until the night he’d met Nigel Lecter.    
  
One drink too many at his brothers bachelor party, one night he should have called it in early and went him.  Instead he’d stayed out to watch the strippers and had another drink, blacking out and waking up to the end of his happy little life and Nigel’s shit eating grin.    
  
It made him sick every time he was forced to drive to Bucharest boarder and pick up a briefcase; turned his stomach every time he dropped the pickup off at Ouroboros and walked away as though he didn't know there was over a hundred pounds of medical grade cocaine sealed inside.  
  
What was worse, were the phone calls; that every once in a while Alex would receive a message from the man controlling his life like a puppet master from beyond the backdrop of his normal life.  "Destroy the evidence."  
  
He'd only ever had to do that one other time before.    
  
If there was one thing he could say about Nigel, it was that despite appearances the man was smart.  He knew how to cover his tracks.  A knife had been found with the blood of a victim and possible prints and he'd made it disappear, the blade never making it to the station for examination.  'Lost in transit', as it were.  One of his buddies had lost her job because of that, because of him.    
  
Because of one drunken night.  
  
He loved his wife, his daughters, his house with the mortgage he could barely afford; it was a life he had wanted for as long as he could remember and one he didn't want to give up, willing to protect at all cost.  And now that he’d started he couldn't stop.  It wasn't just blackmail anymore, now it was blackmail, destruction of evidence, accomplice to numerous crimes and drug smuggling.  He had let the noose Nigel had slipped around his neck tighten until he felt like he was choking and he hadn't even taken the jump.  
  
Not yet at least, but he was close; standing on the edge, staring over the metaphorical cliff of his life with Nigel's foot on his back.  
  
The worst of it was that Nigel wasn't alone.  Nigel had a partner and if Nigel disappeared then Alex was going to learn the true meaning of the word fear.  It kept him in line.  His only saving grace was that Nigel didn't call for him often, not as often as he could have.  Leaving the officer mostly to himself and the imaginary life he wished to lead.  
  
He'd offered to pay him once, giving Alex an envelope thick with 1000 Leu bills.  Alex hadn't counted the cash that made envelope so fat, he hadn’t taken it.  It was dirty money the he wanted nothing to do with more than he’d already aided.  He'd dropped the envelop, letting it hit the floor between them with a stone expression and dead eyes , walking away to the sound of Nigel’s mocking laugh at his back.  He drove home in his wearing car went to bed in his expensive home feeling small and empty.    
  
Take the money, not take the money, it didn't change what he did or who he’d become.  Only that he wasn't being paid to do it like a partner or employee.  All the risk with none of the perks and he’d still do jail time if they was ever caught.    
  
He still preferred being black mailed.  
  
Some days he wondered how long it would be before he gave that up too and just let himself become another monster on the street.  Took the cash and worked the pickups like a job.  His mortgage would be handled, a future funded for his daughters.  But it was his last shred of dignity and Alex held onto it like a life raft, the last choice making him a good man.    
  
He wasn't employed.  He wasn't being paid.  He was being blackmailed.  And that was what made Will dangerous.  
  
There was something going on between Will and Nigel.  Friendship?  Partnership?  Relationship?  Was he working with Nigel?  Would he report back with everything Alex did?  What he said?  Would he find more of his life to use against him and strengthen his control?      
  
He could almost feel the invisible noose tighten another quarter inch, the foot on his back pushing him that little bit farther toward the edge.  He needed to know Will's angle, needed to know for sure that the man wasn't a danger to him.  Alex didn't know if he would be able to take much more of this.  Will could be the final push needed to send him over the edge.  
  
A yellow cab pulled to a stop across the street and the devils bitch stepped out.  He waved to his new partner, a man he didn't trust, with a smile and tried to look as if he meant it.  
  
OoOoO  
  
"How did he die?"  Will asked staring up at the body dangling from the roofs edge.  It was a man, middle aged, dressed for business and sporting a gun holster, it was hidden under his jacket, or would have been if the wind hadn't kept blowing it open.    
  
"I would assume the gun shot."  Alex replied, standing by his partner’s side to look at the man hanging by a broken neck wrapped in rough rope, a bloody hole shot through his head.  Will couldn't see too well from his place on the ground below but if he had to guess he would have said it looked as though the bullet had entered through his temple, a classic suicide shot.  He couldn't see the exit wound, most likely located on top of his head.  Shot on an angle then.  
  
He rubbed his face, trying and failing to wipe the dead man’s empty stare from his mind, "Not what I meant."  He sighed, "Sorry, I was talking to myself; trying to think of how this could have played out to make him shoot himself."  
  
"You think he was forced?"  Alex corked a brow, "We know it is a suicide wound, or was made to look like one, but we cannot be sure if he was forced."  He shrugged, "We will not know for sure until forensics has a proper look."  
  
"What about the weapon?"  He hated having to rely on someone else so completely to do his job.  It was so easy to miss something in translation and a skipped ‘trivial’ piece of information that could be the missing puzzle piece Will needed to bring this whole thing together.  But if you can't read the report you can't play 'Where's Waldo?' with the intel listed there.   And reports were all he had when there wasn't anything as fresh as this body.  
  
"No weapon."  Alexandru supplied, "At least not yet, they're looking for one."  
  
He nodded, "Has they spoken with the locals yet?  See who heard the gun shot?  Any eye witnesses?"  
  
"It is a residential area.  They are estimating time of death to be early morning.  No one was awake.  No one has reported hearing anything.  We are thinking something quiet, gun with silencer maybe."  
  
Will nodded again, "Still questioning?"  
  
"They had a few houses to go last I checked.  We will have access to the interview reports in a couple of hours."    
  
"Can you keep me informed?  I wanna take a look around."    
  
“Sure, I will speak to some of the other officers and see if anything new has come up.”    
  
Will got a pair of nitrile gloves from an officer with a box and ducked the yellow tape to take a closer look around the area.  It was a building front, staring out into the street much as all the others had been.  “All but one,” Will reminded himself.  The victim in question was being removed from the scene as he began his own sweep of the area; they weren’t going to give Will a chance to do his magic trick the way Jack would have, leaving him the body hung long enough to make a public display of Will’s talents.  No, unlike Jack the Chestor wanted the body down and out of the public eye more than he wanted to use Will’s skill.  Will didn’t blame him.  He just hoped none of the local children had been subjected to it, visions like that were scaring enough without adding youth and an innocent mind.  
  
Even with the body moved it was still better than working from pictures.  He could almost feel the lingering energy of violence in the air, making the hairs on his neck stand on end.  
  
"No murder weapon," Will murmured to himself dissecting the scene.  “But there had been a gun.”  If the man had been shot the killer could have walked away with the gun.  Had he killed himself then the weapon should have been found.    
  
Unless someone picked it up…  
  
All options were viable, each holding its own merit for truth among the thousand lies.  But finding the weapon wasn’t their only option, a lot could be discerned from a discharged bullet if they could find it.  
  
He walked to the buildings back and took the fire escape up, the same back building fire escape that had been on every other building to be decorated with bodies thus far.  "Excuse me," He offered his temporary badge to the man and woman carefully loading the body into a bag.  "Do either of you know English?"  
  
The woman nodded, "We're both fluent, I'm better.  You need something?"  
  
"I was hoping to take a quick look at the body before it was taken."  He stepped across the roof, looking down at the man being loaded and zipped in a bag.  The entry wound where the bullet had punctured his head looked as though it were tacky with coagulating blood, the bright gleam of wet dulling as it dried in the wind.  He could see the bruising mark around his neck where the rope had jerked, breaking his spine in the drop and the barest trace of powder on his nose.  "He took a hit before he took the bullet."  Will said more to himself than for the other officers benefit.  "Traces of cocaine’s have been found on all other victims as well…"  All but the woman who'd been tied to a poll, she'd been different.  A rope had been fastened around her neck like the others, but she hadn’t been hung.  She had been punished.  
  
Though the question remained, why?  
  
He'd need to see the autopsy report, get his hands on the photos and add them to his growing web.  
  
There was a star burned into his temple, proof that the barrel had been pressed against skin.   
  
"Thanks for letting me take a look."    
  
“No problem.”  
  
Will still didn’t feel connected, an empty space in his mind where there should have been the growing profile of a killer.  Whoever these men and women were, Nigel was right, they weren’t good.  These were members of a mob or gang and someone was stepping into someone else territory.  It was a pissing contest, one that had gotten very out of hand with the growing number of bodies.   
  
With a few new thoughts swimming in his mind Will walked to the roofs edge, staring out over the city much the same way he thought the killer might have while choosing this spot.  Everything he’d picked so far had been high, something that could look over all the other surrounding building tops.  He wondered if that was a clue and closed his eyes, watching the pendulum swing.   
  
One, two, three…  
  
It was twilight, the cusp of the sun just kissing the horizons edge to begin mornings glow; stars still bright in their city light washed pattern in the ebony sky.  Will stood by the roofs back, close to the ladder he had climbed after his latest victim.  “I watch my mark as he slips the pre-tied noose around his throat.  He knows that I’m watching and he does exactly as he’s told.”  His head cocks slightly as next the man lifts his gun from the holster, a silencer screwed onto its tip in preparation for a silent kill.  “This man is use to handing guns.  He’s no stranger to pulling the trigger and ending lives, but that’s not why I’m doing this to him.  I’m sending a message, one that I’ll repeat again and again until the receiver either gets the point or join the growing body count.”    
  
Stepping back onto the buildings edge the man looks blankly ahead as he presses steel lips against his temple in a kiss and pulls the trigger.   
  
Still standing by the ladder’s top, Will doesn’t have to do a thing and watches the body fall back, the dull snap of bone greeting his ear and clatter of steal to the ground.   
  
Brows knit Will opened confused stormy eyes to stare out over the city, it didn’t seem right.  Not for a man to be murdered by a guy doing nothing at all.  Somehow this victim had been forced to off himself.  But how?  Why?  It was possible the victim could have been trying to protect somebody, told to kill himself or watch someone he loved be murdered instead...possible, but unlikely for the number of bodies building up.  Still, Will wouldn’t know for sure until he could get inside the victims head.  Find out what it was that had drawn the killer to him and what he had used against him to force his hand.  
  
Frustrated, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and turned back toward the ladder.  He needed inside the killers head with so little to go on he needed to get to know the victims instead.  A task that felt close to impossible thanks to the ever frustrating language barrier.  Jack never should have sent him.   
  
Spotting Alex on the other side of the tape he took off the gloves and ducked the strips of yellow to rejoin his partner.  "I'm not gonna have much to work with until I can get the transcribed report. "  
  
 “I'll bring a translated copy of everything to you later.  You should head back to your building for now.”  He shrugged, “There is not much else you can do for here for the moment."    
  
"I think you’re right.  When you put in the request for the report do you think you could get me any additional information on the victim beyond name, age and occupation?  I need as much detail into his life as I can get.”   
  
“I will make the request.  Worst case scenario you and I will make a house call and I will interpret for you.”  
  
“Thanks.”  He offered his partner a pat on the back, turning to leave and paused.    
  
He shouldn't have felt it, not under the man's heavy jacket and suit, but he had.  It was hard to miss the outline of a steel gun under your hand and it was a sensation Will had missed since getting to the Eastern Bloc country.    
  
Blue grey turned to meet dark brown; panic, fear and something unpredictable dancing through his eyes as he looked at the profiler.  Will smiled as if he hadn't just felt a fire arm stuffed down the back of his partner’s pants and up his back instead of in the holster under his arm.  
  
Except he had noticed, with his hand lingering on the hardened shape of a pistol’s handle under his palm, they both knew he was more than aware of what he was touching.  "I'll see you later."  Smile still in place he turned from Alex, stepping away from the crime scene and back in the direction of the street.    
  
It wasn't long before he heard footsteps behind him, a hand grabbing his shoulder.  "Wait, Will, I can explain-"  
  
"Not here you can't."  He cut him off, continuing his steady strides toward the sidewalk and away from the crime scene.  He'd have to flag down a cab if he wanted to get back to Nigel's or his place, he wasn't about to climb into a car with his 'partner' anytime soon.  But at the moment walking was the most appealing, keeping him in the public streets and prying eyes his best defence to keep alive in a way the security of four walls couldn't when you were about to have a conversation with a possible killer.  One he wasn’t sleeping with.  
  
He'd downloaded a GPS layout of Bucharest for his phone during his short love affair with a local cafe's wifi.  He didn’t think the cab had taken him for more than ten or fifteen minutes from Nigel's condo to the crime scene.  He could walk it if he needed to.  But for now, he'd settle on a nice public coffee shop; something crawling with potential witnesses but not so overcrowded as to stop the two of them from having a conversation."  
  
Alex looked at him with an expression of almost lost hope.  "You'll listen?"  
  
"I offered to listen before.”  He reminded, “You didn’t want to talk.  You asked for privacy and I gave it to you.  But it's not a luxury I’m willing to offer any more.  Sorry.  I need to know what’s going on and your involvement."  It was a better bargain then the officer could have asked for after being caught with the murder weapon stuffed down his pants.  He could lie all he wanted but they both knew the gun wasn't his, Will could see his pistol peeking from under his jacket.  
  
"Thank you..."  He looked grateful and Will hoped he was making the right decision, that this wasn't a mistake going to come back and bite him in the ass later.  
  
"Don't mention it.  Ever.  I don't want to wind up in a Romanian prison."  He hoped this would win back some of the lost trust between them.  The last thing he needed was to be lost in Romania with his translator holding a gun to his back.  He had enough to worry about in that regard with Nigel.   
  
OoOoO  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are offering cooking lessons to the bad man who wants to shoot them, your comments are following Will and Alex to the cafe and hoping no one gets shot. 
> 
> The author is doing the hula in a bunker because she knows better then to be within shooting range of the upcoming shit storm.


	14. Devils Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will talks with Alex and goes back to Nigel's place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me updating like a boss!!!
> 
> I haven't felt this inspired to write in a long time, thank you so much everyone making me feel that spark again. It means so much to me. 
> 
> I've been working on this story nearly constantly during my free time, I think we'll be reaching it's end much sooner than I'd previously anticipated. I hope you'll all stick with me until its end and find as much enjoyment in reading it as I've had in writing it. 
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> Not Beta Read.

Seated in one of Bucharest’s many cafes with a hot cup of coffee, one he was desperately wishing were whiskey, Will eyed the man sitting ridged across from him. Alexandru Vasilescu, Will’s partner and dirty Romanian cop, sat straight backed awkward and shifting in his chair thanks to the length of unyielding steel pressing along his spine. Will hoped he was uncomfortable. "So, let's start with the gun and work our way from there.” Will began, rolling the warm mug between his hands, “Why is it in your pants instead of at the crime scene?" He sipped his coffee and found himself pleasantly surprised by the light brew he'd been given. A refreshing change from the heady dark roast he’d been enjoying these past few days.

“I have to." Alex said as though he actually thought that one line might be enough for the profiler, that Will would accept it at face value and walk away satisfied. He wasn't. Will waited for more, taking another deliberate sip to demonstrate his patience.

Actually, the more he drank the more he wanted to dump it out in favor of that aforementioned dark roast. He was really enjoying the Romanian blends, well, all but this one it seemed. "I was given orders and I have to follow those orders if I want to keep my family safe." Alex relented, eyes focused like a guilty child on the cup in front of him instead of the man he was forced to defend himself against. 

"Who gave the order to steal the gun?" He dug the note pad he'd started carrying out of his pocket and flipped to a fresh page. It was mostly filled with notes on where he lived and how to get around the city. It wouldn’t matter what he figured out regarding the case if he got himself lost. A missing person report was not what the Chestor was looking for. 

"Domnul Nechita." His pen stilled over the paper, brow furrowing as he looked at the man who could only be described as ‘broken’. It wasn’t Nigel. 

He was honestly surprised. 

Will’s pause must have been assumed as a delay for not knowing how to spell the name because Alex slender hand had reached across the table to take the pen and paper from Will, jotting down the name for the profiler who couldn't begin to guess how to spell based on Romanian dialect. 

Pad returned he looked at the name scrawled in wide sharp letters, "Iosif Nechita?" He was sure he'd pronounced it wrong, but it didn't seem to bother Alex. "Is he our killer?"

"I-" He swallowed, throat bobbing, eyes darting to the side, trying to think of a believable lie.

"Can you explain to me why you have to do this?" Will tried a different route, something easier, he’d let Alex paint himself the victim. It would let the words roll more freely from his tongue once he believed they would no longer condemn him. It might have been easier still if he could have had the man talking with a couple of drinks in him. Caffeine did nothing to help anxiety, but alcohol? Alcohol could be used to loosen tongues. It also ran the risk of mixed up memories and forgotten ones. There was a delicate balance that needed to be had when dealing with alcohol and it was one unique to every liver. 

For now coffee was the best thing he had.

"It started with a bachelor party. I made a mistake." Alexandru had yet to take a sip of his coffee, Will wondered if it was anything darker than his own and if they could trade. 

He should have asked for some instead of having Alex order him the house blend. "It was caught on tape. They threatened to reveal it to the police if I did not assist..."

"You're being vague Alex, I need details." More silence passed between them, the officer at last tasting his coffee. He wrinkled his nose at the cup and Will was happy he’d stuck with his own. "What did they catch you doing? Who are they? What have they made you do since?"

"I cannot discuss-"

"I just caught you with a murder weapon hidden in the back of your pants and let you walk away with it instead of flipping your jacket and revealing it to the whole team. I’m trusting you Alex and I need you to return the favor." That seemed to stick, the agent chewing his lip as he considered the demand. 

"I cheated on my wife…” A shaky breath, more to come, “and killed a prostitute." He confessed, burying his face in hands as though his world had just ended. It was a hell of a lot more than Will had been expecting. "It was my brother's bachelor party, a night out. We went to a strip club, had a few drinks...I had been turning down girls all night." And Will believed him, he'd said cheating on his wife as though it were worlds worse than killing the whore. He was as loyal as they came. "I-I did not remember anything past a few drinks." He admits. "It was all just...black..."

"You were roofied?" 

"I do not know, maybe, probably. I was drinking and then I was awake with the body of a woman dead next to me...I-I had shot her..." He was pale, all color leached from his face in memory. This was the shell of a man who had once been filled with life and love; those happy emotions now replaced with lies and self-loathing. He would do whatever it took to keep his family safe; safe from the monsters who meant to use him to their whims. "At first I did not believe it. But there was gun powder on my hands and she was dead...but the gun was gone."

"Was it yours?" He was taking notes, but his eyes were on Alex, his hand moving across and down the page as he held his usually illusive gaze on the man before him. He was watching for ticks, for the lies hidden in truths. So far he hadn’t seen any.

"No." Not that it had helped him any, "I had left mine at home. Everyone knows you do not mix drinking and guns. No, it had not been my gun, but another man had the one I had used in a plastic bag. He was in the room with me when I woke up. Drinking and smoking."

"Was it Nigel?"

"No, it was Domnul Nechita. Nigel was not there, not yet. He showed up after with the tape. Security footage of me going out back with the girl…I fucked her...then I-I killed her.” He wrung his hands, pushing away the coffee that must have tasted worse than Will. “I had a breakdown in the back of the club. Domnul Nechita informed me that I killed the girl. I did not want to believe it, but then Nigel walked in with a tape. They played it on an old VCR and there I was...with another woman other than my beautiful wife and I killed her.”

"After that I was informed that if I wanted to keep the tape for their personal viewing only, I would have to start making pickups for them. I drive out to meet with strangers at the edge of Bucharest, make the exchange for brief cases and then deliver them to the bar."

"What bar?"

"Ouroboros." Will should have guessed that. "They will not let me go. They just keep adding to my list of crimes. I can never be free, not without my family leaving me and an end to my career, my life as I know it. I would spend the rest of my life in prison."

"Where you on the roof this morning when they,” whoever they were, “told the man to shoot himself?" Will put his pen and pad away and took a deep swallow of coffee. "The cocaine is a cover up. Once they detect a drug like that they won't think to use a GCMS to search for more subtle chemicals. You said you don't remember anything? And you killed a woman?” Something that seemed far too out of character for Alex to be true, “I think they're using Scopolamine to make their victims walk to the roofs edge and either jump, or in the case of our latest victim, shoot themselves."

"I am not familiar with this drug." Alex admitted.

"Scopolamine, burundanga, devils breath, it has a few names. Once it's infected with it the victim will respond to its effects in minutes. It's odorless, tasteless, you wouldn't have noticed it if someone slipped some into your drink."

"That does not explain why I would cheat on my wife, kill a woman. I am not that kind of man."

"You don't have to be. The drug leaves people susceptible to suggestion. People who have been victimized have been convinced to empty their entire bank account, let people into their home and in a few cases even give up their organs." 

"You believe I am a victim?"

"I do." He tapped his pen against the pad, watching the man before him fight with himself, caught between hope and despair. "But, I doubt the courts will see it that way. So, Nechita has a tape of you murdering a woman and now you're under his thumb.” It wasn’t a question, just the vocalization of information, his mind processing, “If you go to the police it'll ruin your marriage and you’ll go to jail. Unless maybe we can prove you were drugged, coerced."

"I do not think that will help me."

"Stealing from crime scenes isn't going to do much for you either."

Silence filled the space between them, several long moments passing before Will spoke again, "I need you to bring the gun back to evidence."

"No, if I do that they will kill me and my family. It is not an option."

"What about protective custody?"

"Stop Will, do you really think I have not considered this? I have and it is no longer an option to me. I cannot go to the Chestor and tell him everything I have done. I did not think about it than and it is far too late now."

"You know you're picking an option that will paint you as something far worse than a man who was blackmailed. You're walking away from a choice that could keep you and your family safe. You’re choosing to side with the killers, you've just made yourself an accomplice, Alex. You’re refusing help."

"Go home Will. Tell them you have found nothing and return to America. You will not be winning any cases here." He snapped, rising from the table to leave Will with his brash demand and abandoned coffees.

Will watched him go, leaving the officer to make his own mistakes as he abandoned reason and stepped out the door. Though Will couldn’t blame him for not wanting to risk everything he had built, he could still think him an idiot for not being willing to try.

He smiled to himself, sardonic and bitter, “Kettle and pot.” He whispered, reaching across the table to pick up the cup that had only had the barest taste taken from it. He could hardly point fingers when he was still fucking a killer.

Snorting a laugh at his own fucked up life he took a sip. It was sweeter than he generally took his own, with a hint of cinnamon in a blend dark enough to peel paint. It was exactly what he’d wanted. "They showed you a tape?" He mused to himself mind thinking as he quickly polished off the stolen cup and called a cab.

OoOoO  
"You're back sooner than I'd expected." The bad man greeted, looking up from where he sat on the couch, a book in hand. Finishing his paragraph he dog-eared the top corner of the page, marking his place before turning his attention to handsome profiler. Will couldn’t read the novel’s tittle, its cover marked in Asian characters that had him realizing the man he was sleeping with had a far better education then he lead on. That marked the man up to three languages at least. "I don’t see a suit case, you didn’t change your mind on me did you?"

"No, I'll pick them up later. It’s been a rough day.” He shrugged, slipping off his shoes, and dropping his jacket over the back of a chair, “What language is that?" He dropped next to Nigel, enjoying the way his body sank into the seat. He might have to consider updating some of his furniture when he got home.

"Japanese, it’s a war novel." He explained, shifting in to lean back against the sofa's arm and pull the slighter man back against him.

"How many languages do you know?" How many did Hannibal know?

"I'm fluent in English, Lithuanian, Japanese, Romanian and French. I'm working on Italian." Will let himself be pulled against the broader body, relaxing into Nigel’s chest as strong arms wrapped around him. "What about you gorgeous? You know anything beyond English?" He abandoned the book on the back of the couch, giving his full attention to the man in his lap. 

"Nothing that impressive, I can speak enough Spanish fumble through a basic conversation and some half-forgotten Cajun French."

"Still better than most,” He was drawing shapes on Will’s stomach; fingers tracing small circles that left his flesh tingling. “You plan on sticking around for a bit?” He nuzzled behind into soft curls, nosing his way behind Will’s ear to kiss the sensitive skin there. “I could lend you more clothes. You could stay in." His hands had already begun to wander, sliding down Will's shirt toward the button of his jeans. Will caught his hand before it could reach the denim.

"I'm still sore from this morning." 

"Yeah?” He didn’t seem detoured, “What if I promise to be gentle?" He kissed the hand that’d caught him, adoring the palm with his lips. “I could kiss it better.”

Will bit his lip, supressing a shiver, "Can I top?" 

A crooked smile pressed into his palm, teeth catching the meat of his hand in a gentle bite. “I think that can be arranged.” 

It felt like there was a catch and Will waited for one, but no conditions were given as Nigel tugged him off the couch and toward the stairs. “Have you ever fucked someone up the ass before?”

“No, I’ve always been pretty vanilla in the bedroom. Strictly women and missionary,” He shrugged, “oddly, I’d thought myself straight until recently.”

“Of course you did. It’s fucking drilled into us from the day we’re born. Men fuck women and women fuck men. Anything else is abnormal, different; and people don’t like different. They’d rather keep everything static.”

“People fear change.” Will agreed, eyes lingering on the railing he could still remember having been pushed over, Nigel’s fingers pressing inside him to make his reel. His cock jumped at the memory and he pushed himself to continue up the stairs, ducking the low ceiling and crawling onto the bed. “It’s human nature to be cautious of change, it’s an instinct meant to keep us alive.”

“Yeah? We’re also made to adapt.” He pulled the rose printed button up over his head and threw the tacky shirt to the floor, shoulders hunched as he searched out a bottle of lube from the dresser. “Humans have been lacking in that front for years.”

“Denying change until they’re forced to accept it?”

“Exactly.” He tossed the bottle onto the bed, dropping his jeans and boxers before joining Will. 

“What about you?” He worked his own shirt over his head, feeling the warmth of broad hands on his hips in the moment of blindness from fabric pulled over his head. 

“I don’t care what’s between your legs.” He popped the button on Will’s jeans, eyes on his work as he slid denim away to reveal the profilers chub pressing against his boxers. “Man, woman, tran; I don’t give a fuck if they’re a maphy so long as they’re easy on the eyes.” 

“I’m not familiar with some of that slang…” Will admitted, combing his fingers through ashen hair as Nigel deprived him of his clothing. 

Nigel snorted a laugh. “Just a crude way of saying I don’t give a fuck about any of it.” He smiled, crawling up the lithe toned body of the man he couldn’t get enough of. “Think I’m what they call a fucking pan.”

Will wondered when it was that sexualities had divided into something broader then the three-way he’d learned about in school and decided he’d have to take an hour some afternoon and educate his ignorant mind on the subject. “So long as it means you like me I don’t really care.” Will decided, looping long arms around broad shoulders and meeting thin lips in a kiss. 

“You have nothing to worry about there, darling. I am very, very attracted to you.” He laid his body over him, hips to hips and mouth to mouth, grinding down on the slighter man to force a noise from him and deepened the kiss. 

“Ni-Nigel,” he arched, another noise pulled from him as the bad man rubbed their swelling cocks. “Damn-it Nigel, you said I could top.” He bit his lip, breath rushing in short little pants as he felt him move again, the slide of flesh and ache of desire. 

“And you can, I just wanna have a little fun first.” He brushed haloing curls back from blue grey eyes, hungry for their gaze. “That’s not so bad, is it?”

“Top doesn’t mean ride.” Will said evenly, almost a reminder for the bad man who grinned in response. 

“I haven’t lied to you yet darling. If you wanna top, you can top.” He squeezed a generous amount of lube into his hand slicking fingers and watched Will’s pupils dilate with realization as those slicked fingers were lowered between them, the profiler scooted back to better watch the show. “Fuck,” He cursed, grinding teeth as he slipped two fingers inside himself to scissor and stretch, working himself open the way he had opened the beautiful man watching him only earlier that morning. 

“I could have done that.” Will ventured, eyes fixed on the three fingers moving in and out, loosening the tight heat he would soon be filling. “I might not have done it before but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t figure it out.”

“Best way to learn is on yourself,” Nigel informed, leaning forward to slick Wills swollen cock with the excess. “That way you’re less likely to fuck it up; more likely to skimp and rush and let your partner tear than yourself.”

Will watched him, tense, lying back for Will to take his place on top; his erection flagging. “Why are you so nervous?” Will asked instead, slowly climbing over but keeping their bodies apart.

He clucked his tongue, forced tense muscles to relax as he beckoned the profiler closer. “Not everyone likes it up the ass.” It wasn’t so much a lie as an evasion; Will could see the old pain that came with this territory. He didn’t want to be the cause for relived nightmares. “And don’t give me that ‘we don’t have to do this’ crap. If I didn’t want to, we wouldn’t be here.” He hooked Will around the waist before he could think better of his position and back out, pulling the profiler down on top him, legs between his own.

Those beautiful stormy eyes Nigel loved to see gaze into his bloody own met his and it was almost enough to have him pushing Will from the bed. “I just don’t want you to regret this. Or resent me.”

“Pushing for answers will make me resent you, taking too damn long will leave me with a slimy ass and you with an even sorer one. Get on with it or I’m flipping you over.”

“Right,” not buying the bravado he slid down the hardened plains of Nigel’s body, fingers skinning over the tight twisted flesh of a scar along his side, following the dips and curves like a trail as his mouth skimmed over the salty flesh of chest and stomach to the softened cock resting between his legs. 

“Now what are you doing?” He growled annoyed. 

“Making sure you enjoy this.” Will said before licking the flaccid flesh into his mouth with a satisfying hiss from the man below him. It was a strong taste, one unfamiliar to Will’s pallet as he moved the flesh with his tongue and felt the vein pulse with blood between his lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” He spread his legs wider, more accommodating to Will’s shoulders as he settled between his knees and ran his tongue along the underside, bobbing his head to run teeth in a gentle graze along the shaft. He hadn’t done this before, which was obvious enough to Nigel who had received more than enough blow jobs in his life to know an amateur when they wrapped their lips around his cock, but it was obvious Will had watched enough porn to have an idea of what he was doing. 

He couldn’t take it to the root, his hand working the majority of the length as he tried to open his throat and gaged when the swollen head rubbed against the back. He worked the bulbous head with his tongue instead, licking the tip and hollowing his cheeks to force another curse from the bad man gripping his curls at the roots. 

He let his cock slip from his lips with a lewd pop and looked up the tanned hardened body to the lust blown eyes of a man he wanted to enjoy this as much as he did. “You’re fucking gorgeous Will, anyone ever tell you that?” Strong fingers combed back loose flying curls from his eyes and when Will smiled it almost made Nigel hurt. 

“Only you.” 

He wanted to break every bone of every asshole who had ever left Will feeling like less, “Should be a whole lot fucking more,” He sat up, catching Will by the chin to tilt his head back, “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

So much kindness, so much adoration and desire all directed at him. He just couldn’t get it, he couldn’t understand why what the hell Hannibal could have said to this man to draw him to him in this addictive and consuming way. “You know that I’m broken,” he swallowed, throat suddenly feeling tight, “I’m completely fucked up and delusional! I dream about dead people, constantly. I see then out the corner of my eye at night! I’m not normal! You’d never met me before two days ago, why do you like me so much? Why the hell do you care?”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone would want you?” He smoothed more curls away to watch them spring back, “It doesn’t matter why I care, only that I do and I don’t give a fuck if you’re bat shit crazy or not.” He caught him under the arms, lifting him over him before rolling Will onto his back, straddling his shapely hips. “I’m nine shades of crazy and make other people miserable for it” He kissed him again, soft as satin against swollen lips, “You took your crazy and turned it into something good. You’re gorgeous and brilliant and anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you.” A calloused hand found Will’s ignored erection and gave it a stroke, drew a needy noise from him to have him arching when a thumb passed over its slit. “You’re a gift Will. One I am very, very lucky to have dropped into my lap.” 

“Nigel,” He groaned, biting his lip as his cock was eased into the man’s tight passage, heat engulfing him as Nigel took him all the way to the root. 

Will’s hands came to settle on the sharp contours of rocking hips, eyes watching the role of muscles in Nigel’s stomach and shoulders as he took Will into him again and again, squeezed his heat around him to make him arch, heals digging into the mattress as he bucked against the bad man fucking him. 

It felt amazing, better than the lust driven sex they’d shared so far and was almost enough to make him want to stay and see where this thing between them could go. It felt like a lot more than two guys fucking. 

He found his end with a shutter, fingers intertwined with Nigel’s as he found his end buried deep inside, breath shaking , forehead pressed to Nigel’s as he came. “You,” he licked his lips, mouth dry, “you didn’t finish.” He said, disappointed at having failed to aid his partner. 

“I don’t get off on it.” He admitted. “You could probably force it, but if I’m in control I’ll make damn sure you miss the sweet spot.” He kissed Will again moving to let his softening cock slip free before grabbing the lube to re-slick fingers. 

Narrowed blue grey eyes met pleased maroon. “You bastard, you planned this.”

He shrugged, “I let you top, never said I wouldn’t fuck you.”

Relaxing into the bed Will let his legs be pressed apart and the first digit slip inside, it was becoming a familiar feeling, one that made heat turn in the pit of his stomach with excitement and anticipation. He liked it, the feeling of being full, of having Nigel deep inside him. Unlike Nigel, he liked it just as much as taking a turn on top…if being ridden could count as a turn on top…”You cheated.” Will decided, not stopping or denying Nigel from his prize.

He took it with glee, sheathing himself in the profiler with a groan. “I didn’t cheat darling, I stole.”

“You’re ‘stealing’ this?” Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him to sit in Nigel’s lap, head tilting back for the man to adore his neck in another chain of biting kisses. “That makes it sound like rape.”

“I think you’re too willing to call it rape.” He laughed into his skin, hands gripping the firm mounds of Will’s ass as he fucked him on his cock, filling him with the barest movements that had his body shifting and twitching around him in excess pleasure. “Stolen prize?”

Fingers carded through ashen hair, messing locks to stand haphazard in every direction as he aided the groping hands and rode, following the set pace to rise and fall on the thick hard shaft set within him. “Admit that you cheated.” He shivered when it brushed too close to his prostate and a bolt of pleasure like a shock shot through him.

Nigel felt the body tense, the squeeze around him to force a moan from thin lips at the close encounter and did it again, pressing into the little bundle of nerves he’d become so acquainted with. “Didn’t cheat, no rules were set to be broken,” he huffed, increasing the pace as Will gripped him tighter, struggling with the pressure building inside him against his recovery time. He was beautiful, even in his pleasured suffering, “Can’t be cheating if I didn’t break the rules.”

“You ev-ever think about being a lawyer?” His toes curled against the fabric of the sheets, sweat forming thin over his skin as the near agonizing pressure grew, his ecstasy a forced thing to make his flagged erection stand hard between them, rubbing a thin trail of pre between their bellies. 

“Never,” He kissed him, hard and felt the moment Will found his end a second time, nails digging into his scalp as he tried to find grounding against the orgasm to claim him far too soon. It left him lip, bones loose as Nigel laid him back and fucked him full with a few more flagging thrust before curling around him with his own end, a familiar heat painting Will’s depths.

Carefully removing his cock from Will’s abused flesh he fell onto his side, curling an arm around the empath to drag against him. They lay there silent and content, warmed by the early afternoon glow and tangled in sweat and cum and each-others limbs with nothing more than the sound of breathing between them for several long minutes. 

“I did read a law book once.” Nigel was the first to break the silence, nose buried in curls and fingers drawing patters over Will’s back. “Just so I could know what the fuck I’d be charged with when the pigs finally caught me.”

“I was a cop once; you think I’m a pig?” Will looked to him in challenge, digging the point of his chin into the man’s fuzzy chest.

It didn’t seem to bother him, “You’re a Fed. They’re even worse.” He kissed his temple and brushed fingers through Will’s hair until he settled back down and stopped jabbing him with the pointy part of his face. “But you’re my Fed.”

Another silence passed between them, one filled with warmth and the tension of anticipated correction. 

Will didn’t correct him. “Yeah…I guess I am.”

OoOoO

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are having a 'water fight' with super soakers full of lube, your comments are using the mess like a slip and slid to skid across the floor in a giggling mess on their bellies.


	15. Backstab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betrayal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy leprechaun day!
> 
> Also, look at me go!!! Another update!! Huzzah!!!
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not Beta Read.

When Will awoke several hours later it was to the warmth of sunlight kissing his skin and the lingering scent of sex on the sheets.  Nigel had left shortly after they’d curled up for a nap, a phone call dragging him out of bed and away from the warm willing body by his side.  
  
He’d showed, dressed and promised to return as soon as the ‘bullshit meeting’ was over with dinner, giving the half conscious profiler a kiss before he left.   It was nice in all the ways he wasn’t used to and hoped to become accustomed to.  
  
Stretching on the bed that felt as though it could have been made of clouds Will forced himself up, searching out his boxers and jeans before heading down the spiral stairs to seek out the shower and its heavenly rain of hot water.  
  
He definitely had to get back to the apartment and grab his suitcase, he couldn’t keep stealing Nigel’s clothes and he wasn’t going to go without hot water if he didn’t have to.  Plus, he’d made a deal.  One week.  
  
Though if he were to be honest with himself he could already see that one stretching into two…it really would be too easy to slip into a life with Nigel.  At least romantically, he’d have to stop fanaticizing eventually and think about his life back home and the career he’d built there.  
  
Drying with one of the soft fluffy towels he found in the top drawer of a unit built into the wall, Will dressed before venturing back out into the heart of the condo.  It was large, felt even larger without the other man’s presence filling the empty space.  It left Will feeling divided between borrowing another shirt and heading out just to avoid the defining quiet and fighting with the TV to keep himself entertained watching something Romanian he couldn’t understand.  
   
Deciding that TV was probably better than walking with his muscles still groaning his bodies opinion won out and he took a seat on the couch, looking at the collection of remotes laid on the coffee table and wondering why people couldn’t be satisfied with basic cable.  Sorting through the over complicated device as he tried to match each to a machine he quirked a brow as he noticed something odd.  An old VCR.  It looked so out of place stacked with the digital box and blue ray player Will wondered how the hell he hadn’t seen it before.  “Alex said you had the tape.”  He said, getting up to open the storage cupboards on either side of the TV unit and view the numerous DVD's inside.  Not one VHS to justify the aged machine amongst them.  
  
He swallowed back his disappointment, he should have known better than to hope.  "You are hiding something."  He frowned, grabbing the TV stand to pull the large piece away from the wall search for hidden treasures.  He was greeted with mothballs, dust and nothing.  He pushed it back into place.  
  
But now that he knew it was there, knew because why else would Nigel have the ancient machine, he had to find it.  
  
Climbing back up the stairs to the bedroom he knelt in front of a short book shelf, looking over the numerous volumes in multiple tongues for anything that looked like a tape hidden amongst their bindings.  He didn’t see the tape, though a few of the books did have him checking their bindings twice.  A few of the novels pertaining to stocks and financing among the few English tittles he could read.  Grabbing one book he never would have thought to be in Nigel’s taste he pulled the large paperback free, flipping through its pages to see the familiar lines in their corners of having been folded and an even more familiar penmanship scrawled along the margin.  Both Nigel and Hannibal had read the book, and by the looks of it Hannibal had left notes for his brother.  Perhaps it had been his, something he’d lent knowing he’d never get it back.  As he flipped through pages and read a few addressing notes tagging the pages his attention was drawn to another volume, the hard cover tipping onto its side with the picture of a handyman and a foreign tittle he couldn’t read but guessed had to do with home repairs.  The idea of Nigel on his back under a sink or fighting to change a light fixture brought a smile to Will’s face and he pushed one book back into the shelves to grab the other, opening its cover to stare down at hollowed pages, a large space cut away in the volumes middle to make space for the tin tucked away safe in its middle.  
  
“This is why I can’t date.”  Will cursed himself popping open the tin.  It was filled with US thousand dollar bills and a passport.  He opened its cover to look at Richard Brown, the copy looking so close to his own little blue book he wondered how many times he’d managed to cross the border with one.    
  
Closing the tin and book he pushed them back into the shelf; eyes lingering on the numerous other editions sitting on the shelf, the gears of his mind turning with possibilities as he looked at the bindings and reached for another book.  
  
There were six.  Six books filled with fake ID’s, pass ports, car keys and cash for six different countries.  He didn’t doubt that if he kept looking he would have found a duffel bag similarly packed.  Nigel was a man ready to disappear in the blink of an eye.  
  
But it still didn’t give Will the tape.  
  
Curious, he looked around the house, searching for anything that might be used for a hiding place.  
  
His sight landed on the window and his lips curled in a smile.  Nigel was smart, much smarter than he let people believe.  Why keep anything inside the house that could convict him, when he could keep it out?  
  
Watching the rope swing gently side to side against the glass Will stooped as he approached the window.  "You did bring it home, and then you put it some place safe."  He pushed open the pane and reached for the length of braded rope outside.  He’s never been a climber, hadn’t done anything with a rope since high school and even then he’d always hated climbing exercises.  Bracing himself he gripped the braid tighter and worked his way to the top, scraping his stomach over concrete edge as he pulled himself over onto the roof.  He should have stolen a shirt before heading out.  
  
Standing on the buildings top Will felt like he was cheating, betraying Nigel and his trust as he approached the water proof container.  He wished this was something he could ignore.  Crouching to examine the combination lock and ignoring his muscles protest for the position he took the metal piece in hand and looked at the brand.  “Sorry,” he apologized to the man who wasn’t there as he pulled at the shackle and turned the dial.  
  
He wasn’t a master of breaking and entering, hadn’t enjoyed stealing from other kids lockers as a teen or anything that would have taught him the trade.  He’d simply thought it would be a convenient skill for those few pieces of evidence hidden in boxes that often meant waiting for a lock smith or cutters.  A couple of YouTube video’s and Will didn’t have to wait.  He played with the adjustment of shackle and dial until he felt a number catch, "32," he changed direction, twisting the dial counter clockwise with a little more pressure, finding the next catch point before beginning a forward and backward twist between the number that had caught, fiddling until he felt the next point of resistance, "18."  The final number was always the most tedious, placing the most pressure on the shackle he slowly worked clockwise from zero around, counting the numbers that caught, "5, 15, 30, 45, 52."  He smiled, “take out the multiples and the combination is 32, 18, 52."  He reset the dial, spun in the code and popped the lock, lifting the lid to look at the assortment of blankets, pillows, cigarettes and drinks inside.  A few bottles of liquor, a couple of water and some packs of jerky.  Nigel hadn't been kidding when he said he liked to camp on the roof.  
  
He shifted the blankets, pushing pillows and padding to the side until he found another box, a simple shoe box hidden at the containers bottom and inside it, a tape.  He stuck it in his mouth dropped the lid over and grabbed hold of the rope, nearly falling as he struggled to climb back inside the window from which he'd come.    
  
He pushed the cassette into the VCR found the remote for the TV and pressed input until the screen lit up with grainy security footage.  It looked like a dressing room, simple in its contents of vanity, bench, lockers and couch.  No windows and he couldn’t see the door, the camera angled to face the couch and changing area perfectly while leaving the entry out of sight.  It didn't stop him from identifying the young officer led by hand through the unseen door into the room.  He was dressed down in a printed tee and jeans.  The woman leading him pushed him back onto the couch with ease, giving the officer a private show of peeling off her lacy top and shaking her tits before moving to her knees and opening his pants, head ducking down to work him with her mouth.  
  
"He'd not interested."  Will noted, watching as the man sat back to let the woman suck him off, hands set on the cushions by his side as she bobbed on his penis.  Other than a little panting, head lolling back, he didn’t care; Alex wasn't looking to get laid.  If anything he looked high.  Then he moved, head lifting from the couch back to look toward the unseen door, the barest lift and turn, it might have been mistaken as him just adjusting his position, the slight turn to lay his face on the cool fabric of the sofa.   But Will knew better, he was paying attention to whatever was on the other side of that door, listening to someone...then he was lying back, hand shifting to slide beneath the cushion and couch to retrieve a gun.  
  
He cocked it.  She looked, screamed, and he shot.  Dick standing spit slicked between them.  He put the gun down, took a breath and laid back.  
  
The tape ended, screen going blue.  He ejected the tape considering it for a long moment before shoving it down the back of the couch.  "What?"  He dropped the tap, letting it fall down into the empty space of the couches back and wrapped his hand around the comforting chilled grip of something he'd missed since coming to Bucharest.  
  
OoOoO  
      
It wasn't until the following morning Will was able to gain an audience with Chestor Morar, the older man having left the office early the previous day for reasons that were no business of Will's and he didn’t care to know.  But it was the reason he'd shown up to the office twenty minutes before the Chestor walked in, waiting in an oddly comfortable chair outside his door with a paper cup of shitty office coffee.  At least there was one thing international, all office coffee was crap.  
  
"Domnul Graham, good morning."  He stopped in front of the door, though in no greeting to Will, his back to the profiler as he instead unlocked his door.  "Should I assume you have a lead you'd like to share with me?"  A reason for taking notice of the strange man who needed to be in the privacy of a corpse to get any work done; he was unnerved by Will, and Will was used to being disliked.  
  
"I have a theory.  I haven’t received a transcript of the most recent biopsy but if it’s like the last ones then I’d like to request an additional examination on the latest victim."  He opened the door, even being so kind as to hold it for Will before closing it to keep unwanted ears out.  "The victims aren't being forced to kill themselves, they're being told to, maybe even asked to."  
  
The man stopped, leveling a look with the mad man Jack had sent him before slowly, purposefully, sinking into his seat, "Excuse me?"  He wasn’t impressed with the theory.  "You think they're asking these men to kill themselves and they’re just choosing to comply?  How?"  
  
Will wondered how many people spat in the man’s coffee on a regular basis.  He knew he wanted to, and he’d only ever been in his presence maybe a total of fifteen minutes.  "Are you familiar with the drug burundanga or devils breath?"    
  
"The name is familiar though I don't recall it specifically.  It causes black out doesn't it?"  He was giving Will his full attention, hands folded on his desk, coffee set to the side as he watched the profiler with an almost intimidating stare.  Will could feel his stare but was keeping his own eyes trained on his paper cup, rolling the flimsy beverage holding between his hands to feel it warm them, his hands were always cold.  
  
"It's odorless, tasteless, it can blow in the victims face to be inhaled.  Whatever way it’s ingested the victim will be under its effects in minutes.  Once under the drug’s effects the victim becomes so compliant they'll hand over their house keys if they’re asked.  Empty bank accounts, disclose their social security number, there have even been a few cases of willing organ harvesting.”  It was probably one of the more terrifying drugs on the market.  
  
"I think our killer is infecting his victims with burundanga and having them take a hit of cocaine before making them jump.  Give us something to find during the autopsy."  
  
"Test samples show that all the victims were recreational users."  
  
"They might be but why would they all take a hit shortly before dying?  And traditional testing won't show burundanga in the scan.  It can only be found using GCMS.  It would explain how the killer was able to convince everyone to noose themselves, stand on the roofs edge and fire.  All our perp has to do is collect the gun and walk away."  
  
"That still doesn't answer me why they're doing this."  
  
"And I don't have one for you yet.  Nothing concrete anyway.  I think it's about territory, each body marking off a piece of the perimeter the other team isn’t allowed to cross.  They're getting into each-others dealing zones.  I think that's the message being sent anyway.  All being regular cocaine users, if we’re talking about dealer in gangs or mobs, they would have easy access f they were interested in using it."  
  
Morar leaned back in his seat, considering Will as fingers thread to join pointers in a line against his lips.  It made his mustache bush around the finger tips like a small furry wig, Will took a sip of his coffee to hide his smile.  "If the killings are marking out a parameter it's only been creating a line up to this point.  What's changed?"  
  
"The line it's been creating is a curve and the latest killing is on the opposite side of that curve.  They're not going for a perfect circle, just the outline of area.  Somewhere in that area is the building housing their competitors."  
  
"I'll issue for more officers to patrol the area, watch for suspicious activity within the marked region.  We might catch a drug lord to go away with our killer."  
  
"Maybe you’ll catch two.”  He shrugged, he really didn’t care about the dealers, “So you'll run the scans?"  
  
"I'll have forensics run a GCMS on the body and have Alex bring you a report on the findings later."  
  
"Actually,” He finished off the stale tasting coffee and dropped the damp paper cup in a bin. “Do you think I could possibly speak with forensics myself in regards to the findings?  I might have some questions in regards to the report."  
  
“I’m not sure how well their English is.”  
  
“If we can’t understand each other than I’ll just wait for the report, but I’d like to try if it fine with you.”  He’d use the shitty phone translator he’d downloaded if he had to, Will wasn’t sure how much he could trust Alex to translate in the report.  
  
OoOoO  
  
It was still early for the gentlemen’s club to be open, Ouroboros generally staying closed until late in the evening.  But for the workers aware of operations behind the scenes the strip club was open for business.  Alexandru parked three streets away from scandalous club and knocked on the back door.  A woman answered, not one of the show girls, a replacement for Loki as Iosif's right hand in the business of trade.  She was tall, pretty if a little plain and deadlier than half the men working under Iosif.  He’d once watched her snap a man’s arm for having the audacity to cop a feel.  "Alexandru,” her voice was light, soft spoken, “Iosif wasn't expecting to see you today."  She opened the door wider, letting him pass and walked him down the back hall, the sharp click of her heals echoing in the concrete corridor and stopped in front of a door seemingly the same as every other.  But unlike the rest leading into change rooms and private booths this one opened into a lavish private office used for Iosif’s more illicit business.    
  
"Alex?"  The man grinned from behind his desk, a pen in hand and a glass of bourbon by his side.  "To what do I owe the surprise?"  
  
The woman waited until Iosif gave a simple gesture of dismissal and left to return to the door.  Entry wasn’t her job, but if she was waiting then the door guy was either dead or gone to the bathroom.  
  
Or someone very important was due to arrive.  "Domnul Nechita," he began, "I've been working on the investigation regarding the murders of Marku's men."  
      
The thin man’s smile didn’t waver, if anything it widened.  But there was nothing patient about it, nothing welcoming or friendly, nearly tolerant and deadly all in the same waiting look.  "That's not news to me Alex.  I told you to volunteer, had you playing with evidence.  It doesn't tell me why you're here."  
  
"They've called in a detective from America to assist in the investigation, a friend of the Chestor who owed him a favor."  His expression didn’t change, still waiting, still disinterested.  "He's getting close."  
  
"That's what you're for Alex, to stop him from getting close.  It's your job to keep our detective friend busy.  Away from the truth-"  
  
"He knows I'm involved.  I don't know how long I have before he turns me in.  He's getting close; it's only a matter of time before he figures it out and tells the Chestor it all leads back to Ouroboros.  I think it would be best if you were to lay low for a bit.  Maybe wait for him to be sent home."  
  
"Lie low?  I don’t lie low, why would you suggest that?  That’s a stupid suggestion," He pursed his lips in thought before eyes lit with sudden realization and he laughed, "You're suggesting we kill your partner?"  Excitement spiked his voice to something almost shrill, "Oh you've come a long way Alex, such a long way from the whimpering little cunt caught fucking a girl in the back."  His smile turned to poison, "I really should put you on the pay roll Alexandru, make you part of the team."  He reached into his desk pulling a thick roll of bills from the drawer.  It was more money than the officer had seen in a while.  It made his gut twist when he caught the tossed bundle with clumsy numb hands.  "You certainly do enough to earn it."  
  
He turned the ball of bills over in his hands and tasted bile.  
  
OoOoO  
  
Nigel was closing his trunk when he heard his cell phone ring, an old classic sounding from his pocket.  Checking the number he flipped it open, "Need something Iosif?"  He dropped into the driver’s seat and did a quick mental check of his groceries.  It had been a while since he'd needed to keep his place stocked, at least a year since the death of his darling Gabi.  He had no problem eating out or brining home take-away, but he wasn’t about to expect the same from Will.  
  
"Nigel, you busy?"    
  
"No more than usual."  He tapped out a cigarette from his soft pack and lit up.  There was always something nice about the first pull of a cigarette, the breath of nicotine filling his lungs and taste of vanilla curling through smoke over his tongue.  It made him languid, pleased as a big cat sprawling in the jungle.  "You want someone dead?"  
  
"Will Graham."  That woke him up, the bad man sitting straighter as he took another pull and regarded the man through his phone.  "Will Graham?"  
  
"He's a profiler the cops has specially shipped just to track me down."    
  
He hummed his understanding, gears turning in his mind as he blew more smoke, "That doesn't make him a threat.  The police have been chasing us for years.  Nothing ever sticks when they catch us, nothing ever will.  Alex has been tampering with evidence for years."  He blew a cloud of smoke to roll against the windshield like a wave and curl back toward him, leaning his arms folded on the steering wheel.  This smoke wasn’t nearly as soothing as he’d hoped it to be.  
  
"This time it is.  He's onto Alexandru and has a lead.  It's only a matter of time before he figures us out.  We need him out of the picture."  
  
"You're panicking Iosif."  Nigel came back, fighting to keep the ire from his voice, he didn't like the idea of someone coming after his Will.  No, that wasn't allowed, that was how he started breaking skulls on his own team.  "So long as the evidence keeps going missing, even if they do take us in, they won't have anything to make the charges stick.  Accusing Alex isn't going to work if he doesn't have any proof to back it with.  Chill, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”  He tossed the butt out the window, “Besides, he's staying with me."    
  
That his attention, "Your place?"  
  
"Yeah, my place, so stop worrying about it.  If he becomes a problem I'll handle it.  For now, relax.  Will Graham isn't a threat to you or Ouroboros."  He could hear his friend calming, the incessant tapping he could hear through the receiver of the man’s finger against his desk, habit that made Nigel want to break the man's hands, finally stilling, "I'll make sure of it."  
  
OoOoO  
  
The test returned positive, traces of burundanga revealed by the GCMS.  
  
Nearly the moment Morar knew so did his officers, it was response Will respected in the Chestor, keeping his men informed of the drug and its dangers.  He might have been an ass but at least he was looking out for his officers.  
  
For the first time since arriving in Bucharest it felt as though Will had finally taken a step in the right direction, the pieces coming together to form a picture in his mind.  One he already knew the face of and wanted to ignore.  Nigel was a part of this, a big part and he was a piece Will wanted to bury, keep hidden and safe from prying eyes and the truth.  
  
Maybe if he asked him the bad man from Bucharest would disappear…    
   
With some headway finally made on the case, Will at last returned to his rented apartment.  Grabbing the book Hannibal had given him and looking out the hand drawn map from its back to explore a few of the recommended destinations the doctor had left for him.    
  
He found himself simultaneously feeling guilty and missing the handsome doctor as he looked at the elegantly scrawled lettering of place names and street corners.  He missed him more than he thought’d, the distance making the few short days feel like a month.  Forcing his mind away from the man he wished he could see and the weekly visit he was going to miss Will recognized one of the street names on the map as he closed the door behind him.  It was farther away than he’d hoped, but not so much as to detour Will from the brisk walk.  
  
With any luck he wouldn't even witness a murder this time.  
  
Still he felt the twist of guilt as he looked at the writing and thought of the man who had stayed up for hours creating something so intricate, so meaningful for him…and Will might as well have spat in his face for turning around and fucking his brother.   Only now, it wasn’t as simple as sex…things had changed.  
  
For some reason that made him want to call Hannibal.  
  
In the semblance of a clever idea he dialed the doctor, an inspiration he was sure he’d regret.  Despite the probable drive of guilt he ignored his twisting stomach and listened to the phone dial through, waiting for that ever familiar answer on the second ring.  Except he didn’t, the call rolling through to the third and fourth without pick up; despite common sense telling him the man was most likely at work and doing perfectly normal reasonable things he couldn’t ignore the tiny voice of paranoia in the back of his mind whispering “He knows”.  
  
Turning his attention back to the map he followed the thick and thin inked lines of a calligraphy down the Romanian streets until he found his way to his first destination, a café.  It looked close enough to the many he’d already visited that Will wondered why it was Hannibal had taken the time to mark the little coffee shop on his map.  At least, it appeared no different than the others until he stepped past it’s assortment of outdoor tables and into the fascinating store.    
  
It was beautifully lit, a blended ambiance of dim lighting and airy music with center lights focusing over an assortment of paintings displayed for sale along the back.  It was a blend of a coffee shop and art exhibit and an experience in and of itself for Will to partake.  He browsed the assortment of paintings, each one unique and inspiring in the life breathed into them by their token artist.  Despite the assortment of beauty he found himself pausing before a gruesome sketch of a great shadowed beast, a thicket of horns growing from its back like great deadly wings, its gaze focused on the viewer with the strangest contrast of pale blue human eyes.  It was wrong and beautiful and no bigger than a box of cereal.  
  
It was an original and something he would never see again.    
  
He quickly snapped a picture of the art piece with his phone and hid the device back in his pocket.  Will had never been drawn to art, really didn’t care much for decorating his home beyond the assortment of porcelain dog ornaments he had scattered around his house.  
  
He’d also never been so drawn so something before, the idea of never seeing it again daunting.  For some reason this particular oil piece spoke to him on a level he never would have expected from himself.  "Excuse me, sorry I don't speak Romanian, do you happen to know any English?"  He didn’t, but he found his manager who did, a young woman stepping out from behind the counter to assist.  
  
"My English is fair Domnul, what can I do for you?"  She smiled, shaking Will's hand before they returned to the painting.  
  
OoOoO  
  
To his surprise, the shop was willing to hold the art piece for up to three weeks while he sorted finances and then would assist in having the piece shipped back to his home.  It was a better bargain then he had expected and he found himself surprisingly pleased with his spontaneous purchase.    
  
He left the shop with a complimentary coffee and a spring in his step, feeling oddly good despite the chaos of the painting.  It would probably say something deep and meaningful about his personality that he’d chosen that piece and not one of the many cheery others that had scattered the walls.  He hoped when Hannibal picked that piece of telling from his mind he wouldn’t share it with him.  Some things were best left to ignorance and Will understood too much of himself already.  
  
An arm wrapped around his throat from behind, shocking Will as he was held in place and another man came from infront to grab his face and force his jaw open with finger and thumb.  He gripped the arm that held his throat for balance and kneed the one grabbing his face in the balls, sending the pill he had been ready to force down Will’s throat to the ground as he fell to his knees.    
  
There's no such thing as a cheap shot when you're fighting for your life.  
  
The other twisted him, an attempt to break his neck and he squeezed his cup, popping the lid to spill burning liquid over his hand before throwing it over his shoulder into the man’s eyes.  He screamed losing his grip and Will ran.  He hadn’t seen their faces, not more than the glimpse he’d caught of the one he’d nailed, and he wasn’t about to stop and look back for any better descriptions.    
  
Sprinting down the walkway he took the first turn he could find, racing onto the next street and into the first pub on the strip.  It wouldn’t be enough to hide, he’d learned that the hard way last time.  Working to slow his breath he moved through the series of bodies and out the door, ignoring the alarm it set off as he dashed into another run.  
  
"Pick up, pick up, pick up-" He was swelled with relief when he heard a familiar voice sound through the receiver.  "Alex, where are you?  We need to talk and I need someone with a  loaded gun."  
  
"Wh-I am sorry Will, but you have confused me.  Why do you need a gun?"    
  
"Do you remember how I told you about the two guys who had attacked me before?  I can't be sure but I think they're back.  I'm being chased; I need help and if I start calling the station instead of my partner people are going to ask questions."  He ducked into an alley, he didn't know if they were following or not, but he wasn't about to check in case it gave his spot away.    
  
"You don’t want to raise questions?"  he sounded unsure, skeptical and Will didn't blame him, the whole situation was a mess, but Alex was a good guy who'd gotten pulled into a bad situation.  One of those few people in life it was worth lying for.  
  
"I want to help you."  He answered, voice hushed as he tucked behind a dumpster, "I don't want to turn you in, this isn't your fault and I don't think you're guilty.  Just a guy stuck in a bad situation.  But I need you to trust me and I need to be able to trust you."  
  
"Alright, tell me where you are."  
  
"I don't know the city, I'm tucked between two buildings and can see Bastilia up the street from a pub, uh, Fratella I think."  
  
"That is fine, I grew up here.  I know where you are."  To Will’s relief he did, the familiar Volkswagen pulling up to stop in front of his gaping alley a scant few minutes later.  
  
He’d never been so happy to see a Volkswagen in his life, darted out of the alley to jump in and buckle up as he felt the vehicle lurch with a heavy foot on the gas.  "Thank you.”  He sighed, leaning back into the fiber seat and closing his eyes against the world as he tried to catch his breath, felt the continued pounding of his heart as adrenalin pumped through him.  “I have no idea who's after me; it might be the guys from the night before.  It might be someone knew."  
  
"Hopefully they have lost your trail."  He smiled, warmer that it had been the last few days as they flew down the street faster than Will ever wanted to drive and turned a corner.  
  
"Thanks for grabbing me."  He opened his eyes to watch the streets zip by and felt his stomach roll with another sharp turn.  "I did some investigating and found the tape.”  He watched Alex tense, knuckles suddenly growing white against the steering wheel, “what happened to you, you didn't cheat on your wife Alex.  You were drugged.  That's why you shot her.  Someone was standing at the door telling you what to do."  His speed slowed to something Will almost wanted to call normal, his attention split as he took another turn that had Will gripping the door handle and wishing he could tuck and roll.  "I had them run a GCMS on the last victim, they found burundanga.  There is no doubt in my mind it's the same drug they administered to you and every other victim."  
  
"Do you have the tape?"  
  
He felt the change in the atmosphere, tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.  "I have it hidden for now."  
  
"I want the tape."  It was said with finality, the officer unwilling to accept any less.  
  
"I'll give it to you, as soon as we solve the case.”  
   
He sifted, eyes darting between Will and the road, panic, "You plan to use it as evidence."  
  
"Not if I don't have to."  
  
"But you would."  
  
"Not if I don’t have to, I don't want to.  But if it comes down to it we can use the tape and show you as a victim.  You can testimony could have them put away."  
  
The sudden U-turn had Will’s head colliding with the window, a sharp impact making him hiss as he braced himself against the door.    
  
"That's not good enough."    
  
"What?"  It didn't take more than a second for Will to recognize where he was, the back alley of Ouroboros still familiar in his mind as they pulled to a stop by the back doors.  He looked at the building, his stomach sinking.  “Alex,” he looked back at his partner, breath catching as he looked down the barrel of a gun.  
  
"Get out of the car."  
  
OoOoO  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are having a cash wads snow ball fight, your comments are looking for Nigel and screaming for help.
> 
> The author is wearing her helmet and inviting others to join her in the safety of her bunker. Shit is about to hit the fucking fan.


	16. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit hits the fan, take fucking cover because holy crap everything has just come to a climax!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I can't say enough when replaying to your absolutely amazing comments and wish that I could say more to let you all know exactly what they mean to me, but honestly I can't put my gratitude into words, not coherently anyway. I'm usually sort of awe struck, at least with the reviews I've been receiving on the last few chapters of this story, with how much you've been enjoying my writing and this story in general. It has really boosted my confidence and given me faith that this story will successfully make it as a book. 
> 
> Thank you again, from the bottom of my heart, I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic. 
> 
> SHIT STORM ABOUT TO HAPPEN, TAKE FUCKING COVER!!!! *dives into shelter*
> 
> I own nothing.
> 
> Not Beta Read. (Though I did edit this fucking chapter for 12 hours.)

Will didn’t move, stormy eyes trained on the gun, "You will be seen as a victim Alex,” He tried to reason, “you had no control over anything that happened on that tape and you were coerced into the rest.”  The barrel didn’t move, but neither did the trigger.  At least it seemed that the man didn’t want to shoot him.  “Put the gun down, we can go get the tape together right now-"  
  
He screamed, speech slipping into Romanian, Will guessed it was the enraged equivalent of 'get out of the fucking car' and reached for the handle behind him, popping the door to slip out.  The gun didn’t waver from his vitals, Alex following example as he jimmied the handle at his back and followed Will out of the car, keeping pace.  "Alex, please, I'm your partner.  We can fix this together."  
  
"Not with you throwing me under the bus,” he hissed, “I will not be a piece of evidence for you.  You want to give me a copy?  A fake?  Have you already submitted the footage to the Chestor?  Does he know?  Does my wife?  No!  I will not let you ruin my life!  Not for your own selfish gain."  He was shaking, emotional, driven by adrenalin like a mad man.  
  
"Do you hear yourself Alex?  Is this really the sort of man you want to be?”  He didn’t want to shoot him, Will had to hope that meant that he wouldn’t, “I haven’t done anything with the tape.  It’s hidden at Nigel’s.  We can go get it together right now. "  
  
"I know what man I wanted to be and he died six years ago with that fucking tape.”  He swallowed mouth dry and throat tight, hating himself, “Now march."    
  
"What difference does it make if they kill me in there or you kill me out here?"  
  
"The difference,” He lowered his aim to something a little less vital, “is that I will not kill you.  I will shoot out you knee and drag you inside screaming for them to kill you."  
  
His heart raced, adrenaline pumping through his veins like a drug, "And if I call bluff?"  
  
"Then I will shot you Domnul Cunt."  A woman’s voice sounded from behind joined by the audible cocking of her gun.  Voice soft as satin, light to the ear, Will might have missed the quiet words if it wasn’t for the high tension keeping his senses tuned.  Her gun, he was sure, didn’t need cocking.  That little action done entirely for his threat and benefit, the firearm was most likely single action, people in this kind of business didn’t like to waste time.  "We might not have to kill you though, if you cooperate.  Come in and maybe we can all discuss this like civilized people.  Otherwise, I will shoot you in the street now."  
  
There would be no arguing with her as there had been with Alex, this woman a battle he wouldn’t be winning, "Alright."  Still facing Alex he read him like a book, it was one filled with pain and regret.  He didn't want to do this to Will, but he was too afraid not too, too fearful of the consequences to let the profiler show him another way, one that would free him from his tormentors and see them behind bars.  Will hoped it would follow him to his grave.  
  
He was becoming a very bitter with the citizens of Bucharest threatening to kill him.  
  
Turning he met his newest captor.  A tall average woman with bright scarlet hair that had obviously come from a bottle and rich dark skin, he might have found her pretty if she wasn’t holding a gun.  "Who am I'm meeting?"  
  
"You'll be sitting with Domnul Nechita.  Domunl Lecter is on his way."  She waited for Will to walk toward the door, pressing the barrel between his shoulders.  
  
"Does Nigel know I'm here?"  It as a fight to keep calm, ease his pounding heart and stop the tremor in his hands as she steel dug into his back, forcing his walk faster toward death.  
  
"Nigel?”  She cooed, “First name basis?  Is the faggot fucking you?"  He could hear the sound of footsteps echo through the hall behind them, dress shoes, men’s, Alex was following them.  
  
"Homophobic?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  She reached past him opening a door for Will to step through; he took one step forward and felt the heel of her boot dig into his back.  He stumbled into the room, tripping to land heavy on his knees before the desk of the man who had summoned him.    
  
The flooring smelled of bleach and this close he could see the obvious spots where wood had been filled with clay, colored with wood shading markers in quick repair.  He wondered how many people had died this way, blood and skull fragments mopped out of the wood grain.  He kept his eyes on the ground and counted the number of spots bullets had been pried from the flooring, his heart hammering in his chest.  He was sure they could hear it, pounding so hard it felt as though it would break through his ribs, they had to hear it, it was defining to him.  
  
"Domnul Graham!  Pleasure to meet you," He didn't need to look to know a number of guns were trained on him now.  "I hear through the grape vine you've been looking for me,” The man said with cheer, “but rabbits don't hunt foxes Domnul Graham, they are hunted and devoured by them."  
  
He took a breath, slow and steady and looked up to meet eyes with the man leaning over his desk to watch him with bright excited brown eyes.  He needed to buy himself time, keep the man talking until Nigel arrived.  "I’d shake your hand rabbit, but I think your men would shoot me if I move."  
  
"Rabbit?  Oh no, no, no, I’m the fox.  You’re the foolish little rabbit who hopped into my den."  His eyes turned toward the door at the sound of another body joining the room, "Isn't that right Nigel?"  
  
Will heard the familiar voice hum, a noncommittal noise accompanied by the sound of his zippo and scent of smoke laced with vanilla.  
  
"See?  Nigel gets it.  Alex gets it.  Now I need for you to get it."  A little white pill slipped over the desks edge, bouncing off the floor boards in front of Will to roll to a stop against his fingers.  It looked every bit like the little round dot they’d tried to force down his throat earlier.  "Take the pill and I'll let you walk out of here in one piece."  
  
He picked it up, rolling it between his fingers as he considered the small dot of medicine, "Burundanga?"  
  
"The Devils Breath is a very creative drug.”  He confirmed, “I commend the Columbians daily for its creation."  
  
"You want me to take this so you can make a recording of me the same way you did Alex?  Have me kill another prostitute?  Or is the plan to take me for a walk, maybe up to the roof?"  He looked back up to meet dark brown eyes in challenge.  
  
His eyes narrowed, amusement gone, "I have three guns pointed at your head little rabbit.  Now is not the time for being a little cunt with me."  
  
He looked at the pill once more, then to the man looking down at him.    
  
He couldn't trust his partner.  
  
But he did trust someone.  
  
Will fisted the pill, took a breath and made a gamble.  "No."  
  
"Kill him."  Two words, one simple order and Nigel had his gun out and three shots fired, dropping the men who’d thought to take aim his Will in less than a breath.  Will was on his feet pulling a tokarev TTC semi-automatic from the back of his jeans to point at Iosif before the third body hit the ground.  
  
"Traitor!"  Iosif screamed, voice echoing through the lavish room.  Another gun was pulled and Will didn't move his aim, didn't shift his sight from the man who had ordered him dead moments before.  He trusted Nigel, despite all the truths he knew about the man he trusted him in keeping him alive.  
  
“I told you I had it handled Iosif, all you had to do was leave Will to me.  Instead you went behind my back to fuck things up.”  
  
“You’re going to throw away everything, years of fucking work and friendship, for a chance to fuck this little cunt?”  
  
He laughed, a deep rumble, “We are not friends you squeaking cunt, and you’re no fucking fox.  But if you were,” He took a breath of nicotine, cigarette pinched between lips on the side, “Then I’m a fucking coyote; and I’m done playing with my food.”  
  
"You're telling me about your job later."  Will interrupted the exchange, walking around the desk to pat Nigel’s ex-partner down and retrieve his gun and shoving it down the back of his pants for safe keeping.  One could never have too many firearms in these situations.  Grabbing Iosif by the arm, gun pressed to his head, Will made him walk, an escort to see them safely out of the building.  
  
It wasn’t until they had made it around the desk, heading toward the door that Will finally spared a glance to Nigel, the bad man and the woman who had escorted him holding each other at gun point, his parner standing uselessly to the side, gun in hand and pointed straight to the floor.  In this battle, Alex was held no side.  
  
"Drop your gun Livia, or my darling is going to paint the walls with Iosif."  
  
"I don't believe you."  She hissed.    
  
Will pulled the other gun back from the waist of his jeans and joined Nigel in aiming at the woman threatening his health.  
  
"I'll shoot you."  He said as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.  "I've been having a really crappy week and quite honestly the idea of shooting somebody is a little appealing right now."  It was a bluff, one he couldn’t back in the slightest, not after Garret Jacob Hobbs, but it was easy enough to slip into Nigel’s opinion of everyone lying dead on the floor and he let the bad man’s feeling on the matter paint his face with an even stare.  
  
"You w-" A bullet burred in the wall next to her head and a smile sliced Nigel's face like a razor.  Will made a mental note to thank Katz for the lesson in aiming when he got home.  
  
"I think you better hold your tongue and drop your weapon.  My darling isn't fucking around."  
  
"Drop the fucking gun Livia." Iosif snarled, all too aware of the trigger happy man holding a pistol to his head.  
  
She dropped it, kicked it away and went to the floor.  Nigel was quick to follow her, pulling his belt free to fasten her hands behind grabbing the abandoned gun before turning to Alex.  The last man standing in the room; gun still in hand and trained on the floor, eyes wild.  
  
No one predicted the man pushing the barrel in his mouth.  
  
"Alex no!"  It was enough distraction to have Iosif grabbing the gun pressed to his temple to pry it free from Will, the sudden pull of trigger and explosion of skull and brain matter against the wall turning the profilers stomach as his gun was turned on him, the barrel pressing heard enough to bruise against the his temple.  He tossed his other gun, the one stolen from Iosif, to land at Nigel's feet.    
  
"What the fuck are you doing?"  The bad man snarled as Will gave up his remaining weapon to leave the men with one pointed at Will and Nigel with one at Iosif.  "Why did y-"  
  
"Mine isn't loaded."  He shrugged as the trigger was pulled, color draining from Iosif and Nigel smiled, his tokarev still trained on his old partner.  
  
"Such a clever bitch," Nigel all but purred as Will twisted free, walking away from the man with no weapon to join Nigel on the other side of the room, reclaiming the gun he had thrown and sparing a glance to his now dead partner.  
  
He wondered again how many people had died in that room.  He’d never wanted Alex to be one of them.  
  
"Go Will."  
  
His attention was brought back by Nigel’s demand, "Not without you."    
  
He laughed.  "You really want to see this?"  
  
"I need him alive for the court case."  
  
"That’s too bad darling."  
  
The sound of people coming down the hall in a storm seemed to be enough to have Nigel changing his mind, firing off a shot as Iosif dropped for cover in a vain attempt to dodge and they turned to run, Nigel taking Will's hand as they raced to escape the building before a rain of bullets could see them out.  
  
They burst through the door out into evening twilight and ran to the car, Will darting around to the passenger side as Nigel started the engine, flooring the gas as soon as his lover was through the door.  Hearts hammering they speed down the street, leaving a blare of gunfire behind them.  
  
"We have to stop meeting like this."  Will joked, laughing from some sick blend of adrenalin and trauma.  It was a choice of laugh or cry.  
  
Nigel wasn’t laughing.  "You stole my gun."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
“What else did you find?”  
  
“I found the tape.”  
   
"You little cunt,” Despite his ire at having Will snoop though his belongings he wasn’t mad, not about that at least.  Not when Will had just given him a gift, “You knew I wouldn’t let them hurt you."  Such a risk, a blind trust Will had given him.  That sort of faith wasn’t easily won and Nigel had earned it.  He would have worn it like a prize if he could.  
  
"You keep saying you want to keep me.  I’ve said before that you're possessive.  If you’re not willing to share me with anybody, you’re sure as hell aren't about to let me die.”  
  
"You’re too fucking smart.”  He slowed the speed to something a marginally less life threatening, “If you’d bothered to check the arm chair you would found the clips."  
  
"No, not smart enough."  Not with Alex lying dead in Ouroboros, body to be hidden where it would never be found, another face on the missing list for his family to cry over.  
  
OoOoO  
  
"So, wanna tell me about your job?"  Will asked stepping through the doors of Nigel's condo and into the kitchen."  He didn't take off his jacket or his shoes, instead choosing to lean against the kitchen island.  He didn’t think he’d be staying long, not after what he’d done to Nigel.  The man had every right to throw him out and he expected it.  
  
"Maybe after you tell me about my gun," He stepped in after him, locking the door behind.  Whether it was to keep Will in or pursuers out Will didn't care, it made his stomach drop all the same when the dead bolt flipping sounded so much like bars sealing on a cage.  
  
"I found it in the back of the couch."  He said again, holding his place by the counter like a soldier holding ground.  Nigel didn't step toward him he prowled, slow calculated movements encroaching on Will's space as he tried to remind himself that this man, though dangerous, was no threat to him.  
  
Though Nigel had just turned on one of his own at the drop of a hat, he had done it for Will.  
  
For his chaotic, all-consuming obsession with Will.  
  
"Yeah?"  He stopped in front of him, hands caging him on either side of the counter, body a breath away.  He wasn’t annoyed, he was pissed.  “What the fuck were you doing with your hand down the back of the couch?”  
  
Nigel, as far as Will knew, hadn’t lied to him.  He would repay the curtesy.  “I was hiding the tape there.”    
  
“That tape wasn’t tossed on a fucking shelf.  You went looking for it.”  
  
“I wanted to help Alex.”  
  
“Help him the same fucking way he helped you?”  
  
His brows pinched as he read between the lines, “You’re upset that I tried to help Alex, you’re not upset that I searched your home.”  
  
“No, I’m angry that you had the fucking audacity to try and get yourself killed trusting the little cunt.  Why the fuck do you think I approached you that day in the car?”  He sneered, “I wanted to say hello?  I was on a fucking power trip?”  Will pressed himself harder into the counter, wishing he could pass through it and disappear, “I was showing you he was a dirty fucking cop so you wouldn’t fucking trust him.  Not get yourself killed for him.  If I didn’t want you to know about Alex I would have sent him a fucking text.”  
  
Standing there, trapped, feeling every ounce of Nigel’s ire on his skin like a burn, Will wished he’d dated enough to know what the fuck he was supposed to do.  
  
“He was my partner,” He snapped back, an animal cornered, “he was stuck in a bad situation and I wanted to help.”  He let his voice rise, another pump of adrenalin feeding into his veins.  “What the hell was I supposed to do Nigel?  I’m fucking lost here in Bucharest with no idea how to speak the fucking language and no one I could trust.”  He pushed back but Nigel didn’t give an inch.  “I couldn’t trust you, not with anything work related; you’re one of my fucking problems!”  
  
“I’m a problem?  A fucking problem, darling?  Are you fucking kidding me, I just saved your life.”  
  
“Yes Nigel, you’re a fucking problem.  You know why?  Because killing people is a fucking problem, especially for someone like me.  I have a problem with it.”  
  
“If I’m such a fucking problem, why the fuck do you keep coming back?”  
  
“I-” he floundered, eyes darting between mouth and eyes, it was a question he knew the answer to and one that would lose him the battle, “I don’t know.”  
  
“Yes you do.”  His rage was subsiding, voice quieting, as he pressed foreheads with his profiler, made those lovely stormy eyes focus on him.  “Why do you keep coming back?”  
  
He felt drained, tired, exhaustion crawling through his very bones as he met Nigel’s bloody gaze, “I want to be here.”  He finally said.  “I like being here, with you.  It’s why I’ve been looking for evidence that doesn’t include you.  Why I had to find and watch the tape, make sure it couldn’t be traced back to you.”  He closed his eyes, breathing deep the scent of Nigel and smoke, the threat turning to comfort as a hand moved from the counter to his back, sliding up his spine to card fingers through curly hair, cradle his head.  
  
“Save the piss lick and keep me out of custody?”  
  
“That was the idea.”  He felt like shit that it hadn’t worked.  “I’m sorry I searched your house.”  
  
“I don’t care if you trash the place so long as you keep that gorgeous ass in one piece.”  
  
He smiled, tired and strained, “Alex told me you had the tape or I never would have looked.”  He ran his hands over Nigel’s shoulders and felt the tension knotting them.  “And, thank you, for taking my side.”  He slipped a hand beneath his collar and followed the tense line of muscle, pressing down to smooth some of the knots.  It earned a rumbling sound of approval, Nigel leaning into the hands now working his shoulders.  
  
He smiled, anger lifting as he gazed at the man he’d won.  Hannibal might have had more time to build something with Will, but Nigel wasn’t a cold son of a bitch.  He still knew how to connect and with Will’s empathy, he knew exactly how Nigel felt about him and how deep that desire ran, “You can make it up to me.”  
  
“Not today, but yeah.  I probably should.”  
  
“You still have the better part of a week to work on it.”  
  
“I’m not making this up to you for a week.”  
  
"You played me; I think that earns a week."  He kissed him, stroking long fingers through hair.    
  
“How did I play you?”  
  
"You knew I'd shoot Iosif if you didn't take the pill."  
  
"You didn't want me to take the pill."  He countered, finding an odd sense of security in the hand that held him.  He should have felt fear, a need to flee in the hands of a man who just killed so many men with so little effort, all of it for him.  But he didn't.  
  
If anything it made him feel safe.  
  
It was hard to be afraid of the monsters when you were dating the biggest one in the room.  
  
"You don't want anyone owning me but you.  If I'd taken that pill one of two things would have happened.  Either he'd make me do something so I'd belong to him, keep me under his thumb, or he'd kill me."  He caught the hand still resting on the counters edge and tugged it to lips, kissing gun powder finger tips.  
  
He chuckled, "You know me so well."  
  
"You wear your mind on your sleeve.”  Will replied, “Like right now, you're trying to figure out if you can trust me.  You want to, but now I know too much.  You want to know if I'm a liability or not."  He could see it, read it as clearly from the man before him as though they were his own twisting thoughts.  
  
Nigel’s smile pulled a little tighter and he ran his thumb across Will’s cheek.  "And can I darling?  Can I trust you?"  
  
It was a good question.  Turning Nigel in would certain close the case a lot faster, but he didn't want to.  He wanted to be selfish and greedy and let the man walk free.  "I already told you I was looking for evidence that won’t lead back to you."  
  
He kissed him, long and hard, consuming Will in a way that had his mind reeling before the bad man finally let him go.  "You're too good to me darling."  
  
"I shouldn't be making deals with the devil."  He said feeling drunk off the kiss.  Nigel was his own kind of drug and Will was an addict.  It was a high he didn't want to come down from, leaving him breathless and needy for more.  "But I want that fiddle of gold."  
  
He snorted, brushing back a stray curl from stormy eyes, "We're not in Georgia."  He caught him in another kiss, and finally took a step back.  "Get rid of the pill and wash your hands.  You don't want any residue from that shit getting in your eyes."  He had visibly relaxed, the tension that had held him gone as he walked to the sofa and pulled off its cushions, fishing another two guns and the cassette from its back before turning his attention to the matching leather chair, throwing its cushions to the side like the others to fish out enough ammo Will had to wonder if the chair would even be comfortable to sit in.    
  
"You know, “ Nigel began as he checked and loaded each gun, "Some people would kill you for snooping around the way you did."  
  
"Some might,” he agreed, “but you won't."  
  
"no, I won't."  He confirmed, loading another tokarev like his own to slide across the floor to his lover.  "It's loaded, keep it on you darling.  Anyone still loyal to Iosif will be looking for us now."  
  
"They were hunting for me before."  He said, picking up the familiar gun to hold and examine, feeling the comforting weight in his hands and wishing it were his own 9mm.    
  
Nigel didn't look at him as he went for a storage closet, pulling a duffel bag from its depths, it was already looked weighted, the go-bag he’d suspected earlier.  " Not until Alex went to Iosif, the cunt."  
  
"He what?"  
  
He opened the bag, organized with compartments, most of which filled with money, and started loading the ammo inside.  "Alex had Iosif put a hit on you.  He called me earlier demanding I see your sweet little ass on its merry way to hell."  
  
He was dumb struck, lost at the thought that his partner, the man he had been trying to save, had been so ready to feed him to the sharks even as he was working to help him.  "What did you say?"  
  
"I said I'd keep an eye on you, stop you from putting the pieces together."  
  
"And if I did?"  
  
"You shouldn't have."  He answered, zipping the bag with satisfaction.  "I would have distracted you, Alex would have kept the evidence from pointing home and eventually we would have framed Marku for the whole thing."  
  
"Marku?"  
  
"Competitor."  Nigel clarified, brushing off his knees.  Whatever he was doing, wherever he was going he was ready to leave.  "Do you have everything you need?"  
  
"Wherever you're going, I'm not going with you.  I’m here for work, I can’t just disappear into the either."  
  
He barked a laugh, "We're not leaving the city, just changing locations.  Iosif's men are coming for us.  I wanna change base before they figure out where to look."  
  
"So all we're doing is finding another place to sleep?"  
  
"For now that’s the plan."  
  
"What about where I'm staying?"  
  
"Alex might have told Iosif.  It would be best if we ditched Romania, but I don’t see you coming willingly for that trip.  I’ll find us someplace safe in Bucharest, don’t worry about it."  
  
"You have my number and I still need to grab my bag.  Text me the address when you find a place and I’ll catch up with you there."  
  
“I’d rather we go together."  Nigel said, setting a cigarette between his lips, flicking his zippo to light. “It would really piss me off if they pumped you full of lead while grabbing your suitcase.”  
  
"I’d rather you trust me."  He countered.  "There isn’t a doubt in my mind that you haven’t had Alex keep tabs on me since showing up.  I’ve already proven to you that I trust you, I need to know you trust me too."  Not to turn him in and to take care of himself.  “I’ve got a loaded gun this time.”  
  
Silence fell between them long and hard as the bad man took another slow drag from his cigarette, considered the request.  It had been such a close fucking call, one misstep leading down a road of blood and death instead of escape.  "I trust you.  If it means that much to you, I'll text you the address."  
  
“Thank you,” giving the bad man one last kiss he checked the guns safety before tucking it into his waistband and stepped out the door, hailing a cab as he walked out onto the strip, oblivious to the man watching him from the window.  
  
He needed to repack his bag, an effort that would be all too easy thanks to the very little unpacking he had managed, and get back to the office.  He needed to talk to the Chestor, the sooner the better, but he needed to clear out of his apartment first, less someone be waiting for him there when he finally got back.  
  
He paid the driver, and ran up the stairs into his building and down the split flight to his temporary home.  It couldn’t have been more than an hour since they’d left the bar; more than enough time to infiltrate his home if the remaining men had thought to do it…but not as likely as cleaning up the mess of bodies and checking if their boss was still alive.  
  
With a hand on his gun he slipped his key into the door, flipping the lock before stepping to the side and turning the handle, pushing the door to fall open as he waited for the first sounds of fire.  Silence greeted him and he took a breath, stepping into his apartment with another sweeping.    
  
Tossing the door shut behind him he froze as though air had been sucked from his lungs, tranquility and distress washing over him simultaneously in a wave.  “Hannibal?”  
  
Legs crossed, hands clasped over his knee and dressed in one of his ridiculous pristine suits; a beacon of in the chaos of Will’s storm, he greeted him with a smile, “Good evening, Will.”  
  
OoOoO  
  
TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are screaming at Will not to cheat while your comments are showering him condoms and lube. 
> 
> The author is creeping out of the bunker and into the closet to watch. (Come my pervy little darlings, you know you wanna see this.)


	17. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal is a manipulative and Will has a breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to have this updated three days ago, sorry it's late~<3
> 
> I rewrote the chapter twice, Will's head space was really hard to wrap around because he's such an emotional mess right now and I really wanted to get across how overwhelming the past week has been for him.
> 
> In this update I know a lot of you aren't going to get what you want, but please remember this is not the end of the story. I adore plot twists.
> 
> In fact, I'll gift a drabble of your choosing to the first person who can guess the stories end, offer ending 12 noon AST.
> 
> On with the show.
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> Not. Beta. Read.

"What are you doing here?"  He should have been outraged by the home invasion, livid with the man seated on his shitty couch waiting for Will’s arrival.  But all he could feel was respite.  
  
"You requested I send you a package."  Hannibal explained.  There was a copy of the România Liberă folded on the coffee table, pages creased where it had been folded while reading.  He had been waiting awhile.  "Post is not nearly as fast as a plane.  I hope you'll forgive my intrusion, I thought to surprise you."  
  
Surprise wasn’t the word.  He didn’t think there was a word, he was emotionally strained to the point of numb and Hannibal was waking things inside him like the first breath of spring after a long, cruel winter.  
  
He hadn’t realized he’d missed him so much.    
  
 “Will?”  He hadn’t realized he’d been staring in silence.  
  
Hannibal stood, crossing the short distance between them, Will watched him move; the familiar poise and confidence in his being, his every step calculated and completed with total control.  He swallowed hard, throat tight and eyes stinging.  Hannibal was Will’s rock, the grounding point he could turn to when he felt as though he were disappearing.  
  
He wasn’t disappearing now, he was breaking.  
  
“Will, are you alright?”  Hands identical to the calloused pair he had felt praise his skin curled around his shoulders, warm and reassuring through the cotton of his shirt and feeling nothing like the bad man who had pleasured him before.  
  
He clenched his teeth, working his jaw as he tried to answer, force the burning behind his eyes to subside and his throat to relax.  He was so tired, so fucking worn and drained from the trials of Bucharest.  
  
He couldn’t force his lips to form the lie and reassure his friend, "No."  He answered with more honestly than he had intended.  
  
He wasn't okay.  He hadn't been for a while.  Will had been coping with one situation after another as best he could without the comforts and securities of his family and home.  He’d found Nigel, a familiar face in a dangerous, alien city and had clung to him like a life preserver.  "It has been a really, really shitty week."  Head hung he closed his eyes until he felt the burning ease.  
  
Another reassuring squeeze, the firm security of Hannibal’s presence - his need for absolute control - the sort of support Will needed in his chaotic life.  But what one saw as structure and support, the other knew to be domination, “Then perhaps we should have a conversation.”  
  
“A conversation isn’t going to help this Hannibal.”  The hands that held him grounded rubbed his arms, following the trail of shoulder to elbow and back again.  The motion was more comforting than he’d expected and slowly stormy eyes opened to face maroon.  He could see concern painting the doctors features, brow pinched as he tried to ease the pain for his friend.  
  
It was a kindness Will didn’t deserve.    
  
“Then perhaps instead some food and friendly company,” He offered instead, “if you decide you’d like to talk I will be here to listen.”  
  
“I’m really not that hungry.”  He tried again to dissuade him, guilt gnawing at his stomach.  
  
“You never are when the monsters come out to play, but nevertheless you need to eat.”  One final slide down his arms and the hands that held him slipped away, leaving Will feeling cold where the warmth had been.  It took everything he had not to reach out and catch the man turning to step away, “If you take a seat I will bring you something from the kitchen.”  It was addressed so casually Will might have thought he was a gust in the doctors home instead of the other way around, the rundown apartment his grandeur mansion and the couch and coffee table his elaborate dining room suite.  
  
Despite the ache growing in Will’s chest, he laughed, following Hannibal to his squat little kitchen.  There wasn’t enough room for both so Will settled with standing in the door.  “You’re about to be seriously disappointed.”  He warned, “I don’t have any food yet, let alone plates.  There’s a mug in the sink and a bottle of palinka on the counter.  Other than water that’s about all I can offer.”  
  
“You mentioned before that your temporary home was bare.”  He opened the fridge, pulling from its depths several containers heavy with food.  “I took the liberty to pick up a few things I thought you might need.”  
  
It was Hannibal’s cooking stored safely inside, he’d eaten at the man’s home enough times to recognize the smell of heady spices and sweet succulent meat as lids were opened.  He had been there longer than Will had thought, enough time for him to have cooked and bundled a meal for them to share and air the scent of succulent cooking from his dingy home.  It felt as though a knife tearing into his guts.  
  
“You brought part of your kitchen?”  He exclaimed, watching as cupboards were opened and simple flatware produced.  Plain cream colored dishes with a single blue line for trim, the metaphorical blade turned and his stomach dropped.  He’d had flown to Bucharest and bought Will dishes.  
  
Hannibal smiled, a gracious pull of lips as he glanced over his shoulder at the profiler watching him fill two plates with gourmet cooking.  “You have been having trouble adjusting.  I thought perhaps to make things easier for you.”  
  
He felt sick, chest aching as a bottle of wine was produced and fine wine glasses pulled from the cupboard.  
  
“God damn-it Hannibal,” He left the kitchen, “you shouldn’t have done this.  You shouldn’t have done any of this.”  Back to the doctor he couldn’t bring himself to face Hannibal any longer.  Not with the trespasses he had made against him.  
  
“Will?”  He heard him follow, task forgotten in favor of the importance of his friend.  Just as he’d dropped everything in Baltimore to fly up and see him, aide the man he knew to be lost and lonely in any way he could.  
  
“You should have called, texted, something!”  Will shouted, emotions wild, “You should have told me you were coming.  I could have saved you the trouble.”  His voice cracked and he forced a breath, closed his eyes against the world.  It didn’t stop him from seeing the pain and confusion on Hannibal’s face, his vivid imagination never sparing him pain.  
  
“Because you slept with Nigel?”  
  
He paused turning slowly to face the other man, confusion vivid on his face where it lay absent on Hannibal’s, “How do you know about that?”  
  
“I consider you a very good friend Will, I spoke of you often with my brother, fondly.  After a while he began asking about you.  I believe he developed feelings for you during our weekly phone calls, something I was aware of but never thought pertinent to mention to you as I had not thought the two of you would come in contact while in Bucharest.”  He stood in the living room with Will, but at a distance, watching the profiler as he tried to read between the lines and understand.   “I also know it is within his nature to pursue his desires with an obsession until he has them,” Or ruins them.  
  
“That doesn’t tell me how you knew Hannibal,”  
  
He studied him, head tilting that curious way as his features softened almost apologetic.  “Nigel skyped me while you were in the shower together.”  
  
Pain and betrayal flooded stormy eyes like the breaking of a dam, shock and disbelieve painting Will with pain as he tried to come to terms with this truth.    
  
He always thought Will looked most beautiful when he was breaking, his suffering more exquisite then any wine.  
  
“Nigel…” he swallowed back the pain bubbling in his throat, “he what?”  Will knew that Nigel could never be a good man, but he had thought he would never hurt him.  A trust he’d foolishly placed.  
  
“I’m sorry Will.  I hadn’t realized how involved you two had become until he sent me the message.  I should have warned you.”  
  
His breath hitched, face still as he tried to stop threatening tears.   “What else has he told you?”  
  
His brother was ruined, the ties he’d worked so hard to forge cut by his own ego.  “I’ve only received one other message since your departure.”  He said slipping the phone from his pocket to reveal the last text received to the breaking profiler.  
  
Mine.  
  
Will turned, kicking the table to flip.  It was too much, too fucking much in one day, one week-he felt like he was drowning, suffocating in an endless pit of quicksand.  
  
The violence did little more than hurt his socked foot, offering no relief for the ache consuming his heart.  
  
He finally broke, shoulders hunched and shaking as tears stained his cheeks.  
  
“You couldn’t have known.”  
  
“I knew he wasn’t good for me and I knew you were interested.”  He seethed, “You kissed me, at the airport, invited me dinner and I fucked you brother.”  
  
“You were distressed and lonely.  You found something familiar and clung to it.”  
  
“Don’t give me excuses Hannibal I’m not worth the effort!”  He said shaking, angry with Nigel and angry at himself for ever having trusted the man, “I knew what I was doing and I did it anyway, repeatedly.”  He wasn’t a child.  He wouldn’t allow his friend to so easily excuse his actions.  
  
Hannibal would not be dissuade, “I believe you were emotionally compromised and taken advantage of.  Nigel can be very charming when he wants to be.”  
  
“Why are you so determined to give me an out in this?  I fucked-up, Hannibal.  I slept with your brother, your twin brother.  You should be pissed right now, screaming at me, why aren’t you mad?”  
  
He stepped farther into the room, closer to the crying profiler wanting both his acceptance and rejection concurrently.  “I was,” he admitted, “I still am, partly with you but mostly I feel betrayed by Nigel.  He knew of my interest and pursued you anyway.”  He met watery eyes and found the storms that brew there bright as sapphires in the mist of sorrow.  “Despite that, I still want you.”  
  
Another ache, one laced with hope and confusion.  “Why would you want me after I did that to you?”  
  
Hands made soft by product took Will’s own, thumbs smoothing over their backs.  “Because I have never felt more connected to another human being as what I feel with you.”  He brought those hands to his lips in a kiss and felt another tremor of suffering pull through him.  “If you will have me, I still desire to be with you Will.  I am willing to continue our relationship as friends or, if you would like, something more.”  
  
His answer was a nod, slow and unsure but wanting as he slipped his arms around the killer’s shoulders and met him in a tentative kiss.  If this was deceit, it would kill him.  
  
Emotionally compromised, raw and vulnerable, Hannibal would make his mark before Will could fill the void he’d created with Nigel’s betrayal with something more.  Fill him with himself until no room remained for his brother but the scars he’d left behind.  
  
Nigel should have known better than to touch his brother’s things.  
  
“I’m sorry,” the words came as a whisper, the apology of a man numbed by pain.  
  
“I forgive you,” he smiled, the small turn of lips making his features soft for the man who needed his comfort.  He gave it to Will like poison laced honey and kissed him again, felt the profilers hands slide along his back as he pressed against him, searching for more.  Hannibal gave it to him deepening the kiss, fingers carding through chocolate curls as he held the profiler against him, felt the desperation and growing need for the security and reassurance only Hannibal could bring.    
  
Since the day they’d met Hannibal had always been there for him, readily available for every phone call, every late night visit, every impromptu appointment.  He had never said no to Will, never let him down, even now as Will stood guilty for the trespass against him, he gave him what he needed and held Will close with the promise of calm to come.    
  
Lips parted to taste the doctor who soothed and feel the slide of heat within his mouth, he moaned into the kiss hand fumbling to push the suit jacket from his shoulders to fall gracelessly to the floor.    
  
He needed more, the more he kissed him, felt the heady heat of hidden flesh beneath the cotton of his shirt the more he needed to feel his skin against his own and know that this was real.  Will broke the kiss, pulling back to grab the silk knot of his paisley tie and pull it free with the hiss of silk over cotton.  “Will-” Will kissed him, forceful to stop the words from flowing.  He wouldn’t let him stop him, he needed this, needed to know it was real before they were separated again and Will was left alone in Bucharest with nothing but his memories for warmth and company.  
  
One hand held Hannibal close as the other fought with buttons, abusing fabric as he pulled each disc of plastic free.  
  
Hannibal smiled into the kiss, giving in to Will’s demands with his token attempt to council trumped.  He meet each fevered kiss with another, skilled hands falling down the borrowed front of his brothers shirt to pull the claiming clothing from Will’s shoulders and let it drop to the floor.  He would see it in the trash before the night was through.    
  
Hannibal had always meant to have Will come to him, the trip to Bucharest meant to make the profiler pine, leave him wanting until their reunion, what should have been a beautiful thing.  Now he threw himself into Hannibal’s arms thanks to Nigel’s betrayal.  He wished he could see his brothers face when he realized the misfortune he had brought upon himself.  
  
“Did you buy oil?”  Will didn’t care if they had lube, fingers fighting with the catch of Hannibal’s pants as he worked to strip the older man with desperate hands.  If they didn’t have cooking oil he would take the discomfort of dish soap and deal with the consequences later, he wasn’t stopping for a run to the drug store.    
  
“Cold pressed olive oil.”  Hannibal confirmed, stepping out of his pants as they were shoved past his knees, Will’s eager fingers finding the elastic of his briefs next to follow his trousers to the floor.  He let them fall, pooling with the rest of his clothing as he accepted Will’s energy and desire; his desperation spoke volumes of the pain that had been caused by Nigel’s betrayal.   “This will not be comfortable if pursued in your living room.”  He didn’t give the time to consider the thought, lifting him with surprising strength to be carried into the bedroom.  
  
“We need lubricant,” Will argued, lithe limbs encompassing shoulders and hips as he was carried out of the room.  He didn’t hit the bed the way he had with Nigel, wasn't thrown or tossed or made to trip and fall the way that Nigel liked to see him bounce, he was eased onto the plush covers and laid back with a kiss.  
  
He looked at the dove grey duvet he’d been laid upon, feeling the soft fabric of Egyptian cotton under hand, “You bought me bedding?"  He knew it would be filled with only the softest down, Hannibal unwilling to settle for less.  Twisting he looked at the accompanying pillows, mounds of fluff softer than anything he slept with at home.  
  
"As I said before, I wanted to surprise you."  Another kiss, chaste and sweet, "I didn't think Jack’s star profiler should be forced to sleep on a bare mattress."  
  
“This is too nice...”  He said fingers skimming along fabric he would stain with sweat in a night.  “I’m going to ruin it.”  
  
“Nothing is ruined if used for comfort.”  
  
“Is it still a waste if I can’t bring it back?”  
  
“I never expected you to attempt to have your bedding shipped home from Bucharest, only that you wouldn’t sleep chilled on the mattress.”  Hands found Will’s hips, following the line of his waistband to pop the button and run the fly, pulling Nigel’s jeans from his profilers frame.  "You hold very little value for material things."  He took his boxers next, slipping cotton over the swell of his ass, freeing his erection to the cool evening air.  "I admire that in you.  You appreciate what you have and use it until it has all but fallen apart, repairing until replacement is the only option.  You are not wasteful.”  He kissed the curve of hip, felt the jut of bone against his mouth, “A fault of my own, I enjoy the luxuries of life."  
  
Thin lips followed the contours of his flesh in a trail of kisses down his leg, the swell of thigh and curve of knee to the sharp bone of his ankle, slipping the undergarment over his feet to fall free.  
  
“My house looks ready falling apart,” Will argued, the gentle touch of hands over his skin and press of velvet kisses to his flesh making his cock ache.  He couldn't think of much else, not when the man who’d plagued his mind since leaving knelt between his knees.  
  
His eye fell to the that which would soon fill him to his core, the heavy cock standing dark and erect between the doctors legs, bringing a thought to his keen mind before he could quiet it, a comparison between the man before him and Nigel.  Hannibal had not been circumcised.  
  
The surprise must have shown on his face because Hannibal explained without prompt, "Our father had trouble telling us apart when we were first born."  He stated plainly crawling back over the profiler to meet him in a kiss, reaching beneath his pillow to retrieve a pair of condoms and bottle of lube.  "Nigel was circumcised to aid in his abilities to tell his sons apart.”  
  
He couldn’t help his smile at the thought, "So long as he stopped once you were older."  
  
"Thankfully before we hit an age we would remember," He smiled, sitting back to press Will’s legs farther apart, it made his cock twitch, a pearl of pre leaking from the tip in his excitement.  Hannibal caught the bead with a sweep of thumb over head, drawing a frustrated noise from the man beneath him as he brought the dot of seamen to his lips and tasted the bitter salt, watching as stormy eyes dilated at the sight.  
  
Will wanted him and spread his legs a little wider to let his lover know, relaxing the muscles he knew would soon be stretched as the first condom was opened, tip pinched as it was slipped over Will's cock, drawing another needy sound from him as he was touched light and teasing.  Brows knit he looked down the plane of his stomach, between his parted legs to the man sliding another over his own large dick, a quick hand slicking his swollen member with a generous smear of lube before coating his fingers and lying his body back over Will’s.  It made his breath hitch to finally feel his weight and know what came next.  The first digit pressed against his waiting entrance, pushing to penetrate the tight ring of muscle and slide into his hole, opening him as he accepted the finger all the way to the knuckle.    
  
Hannibal kissed gasping lips, licking his way into Wills mouth as he worked the man open, felt him relax around the first intruding digit before pressing in the second, gently opening him with long smooth strokes, teasing the heated flesh within until he bucked with growing need.  
  
Hands splayed on the doctors back, Will bit his lip, another noise leaving him as Hannibal pushed deeper, closer to the bundle of nerves that would have Will reeling, another pearl dripping from his ignored cock  in anticipation.  “Hannibal.” He gasped the name, not quite a plead as he lifted his legs farter to skim the flesh of sides.  
  
It seemed to be enough, maroon eyes made carnal meeting his as fingers were withdrawn and the head of his swollen cock touched his opening.  "Are you ready? "  He asked, a kindness Nigel had never gifted him; Will nodded, leaning forward to meet the man above him in a slow and heated kiss, a strong arm slipping beneath his shoulders to hold him close as the other guided the heavy flesh inside him.  
  
They moaned together, one giving as the other took and their pleasure was shared as one.  
  
“Let me know when you have adjusted,” Hannibal whispered, nuzzling into the small of his throat to decorated fading green and yellow bruises with gentle kisses, as though Nigel’s brandings had not been laid upon Will’s skin.  
  
“I want to feel you,”  He whispered, rolling his hips to feel the cock move and his body stretch, “I don’t want to adjust,” He felt full with the thick member inside, a sensation he didn’t want to fade with relaxing muscles and well-prepared flesh; he wanted to feel as much of Hannibal as he could.  He wanted to feel the deep seated ache the way he had with Nigel every time he walked and know it was Hannibal who had left it for him to feel.  
  
A reminder to keep him grounded.  
  
Trailing feathered kisses from his stubble jaw to the crook of Will’s neck he began an easy pace, taking his time in pleasuring the pliable man beneath him.  Will moaned as he felt the shift of powerful hips against him, a leisure pace filling him deep and slow with a torture of teasing pleasure.  He arched to meet each thrust, back bowed in a pleasing line as he sought more from the man adoring his flesh with kisses.  
  
His pace remained despite the canting hips against him, steadily feeding the fire that bloomed in the pit of Will’s stomach, so close and so far from the peak he sought.  Nails dragging down the doctors strong back to leave angry red lines in their wake as he was made to wait and endure.  
  
Steady hands held him close, an arm looped beneath his lower back to control the pace as the other supported his head bringing him closer to meet thin lips in kisses as they fucked.  
  
“You are beautiful William, your mind is enthralling.”  He said, voice heavy with arousal as he felt the tight heat of the profiler he had been chasing for so long squeeze around him, bring him that much closer to his own end.  “You captured my attention our first meeting.  I have found myself since then impatient for the weeks end in anticipation of your next visit, our next conversation.” He shuttered, groaning as the body beneath him met his thrust with another cant of hips, stormy eyes blown to little more than silver rings around pupils, “I have wanted you for so long, I hope you will let me keep you.”  It made his breath hitch, his words of wanting and desire bringing Will closer to his edge as Hannibal fed him the words that would bind them.  
  
“Ha-Hanni!”  Will came with a cry, arching from the bed as his body shuttered with orgasm.  Exhaused he fell back to rest against the soft comfort of pillows as his legs were hooked beneath the knee and he was bent, thighs pressing to his chest as Hannibal found a deeper place inside, just past the bundle of nerves that would make him scream, as he chased his own end; thrusting deeper, faster within the slighter man who continued to gasp and squirm with the filling cock.  He found his pleasure several minutes later with the clenching heat of a gasped moan.  
  
It was a climax that left him feeling boneless, easing onto of the beautiful man beneath him, releasing legs to fall by his side as he left himself soften buried within.  
  
They remained that way for several minutes, enjoying the feel of warm damp skin as their breaths slowed to normal.  
  
“How long are you staying?”  Will broke the silence, splaying his fingers through ashen hair as his sight drifting around the room to note the little changes that had been made in his favor.  There weren’t many, at least not in this room.  
  
“Only a night I’m afraid, Jack has me profiling in your absence.”  He answered trailing lazy kisses along Will’s throat, content for the moment to let silence lye between them and enjoy the beauty of the moment.  It was one they would soon repeat, without the frustration of time restraints and lies to weave.  
  
One night, he wished it was longer.  Will missed home, Wolf Trap and his dogs and conversations with Hannibal while spitting wine by the fire.  
  
His wandering sight settled on one particular change and he almost laughed.  Closet ajar he could see where Hannibal had moved his suitcase to keep it out of the way and finally found the dresser he had searched for upon arrival, the small oak piece stuffed inside the closet.  
  
OoOoO  
  
"So you believe you may be being hunted?"  Hannibal sat on the foot of the bed, pausing in the methodical movement of buttoning his shirt as he considered his profilers present situation.  He didn't much care for the thought of someone chasing what was his.  Not in the slightest.  "Do you think perhaps you should be coming home if this is the result of your efforts?"  
  
"I can't."  He answered without thought, tugging fresh denim and briefs over his hips.  "I'm doing this as a favor for Jack.”  He still felt responsible for Alex, “I don't know if I’d have a job to go back to if I bale."  
  
The whisper of silk was his immediate answer, Hannibal sliding the length of a tie around the raised collar of a fresh shirt, slipping a double Windsor in the fine fabric with practiced ease.  "A job you neither enjoy nor require."  He countered, watching as at Will changed into something entirely his own.  Despite the polyester it was a preferable change.  
  
"I’m saving lives," An old argument that was losing steam.  
  
"But at what cost?"  
  
“It doesn’t matter."  He left the top buttons of his shirt undone and rolled his sleeves to the elbow.  "The more I work the less people die."  
  
Hannibal zipped shut his overnight bag; he would fold and store the forgotten suit for travel shortly, "You drink to forget.”  The doctor reminded, “I’ve witnessed the torment you suffer when the shadows of the monsters you face follow you home.   The scars they leave on your subconscious from your continuous strain and sacrifice.  This case in particular is taking a toll on you, one I had not expected.”  He didn’t have to feign concern, he wanted Will home.  “I think it would be best if you were to take a break from profiling."  He folded down his collar, facing Will as he took his hand in his own, “What point is there to saving lives if you lose who you are in the process?  I can speak to Jack on your behalf; tell him it is mandatory after this case you remain with your lectures alone for a month or two.”  
  
He missed his teaching, the quiet days of getting more sleep than not and enjoying his spare time to work on lures, fishing or grading papers.  “Maybe,” he knew he needed the break, he’d been finding himself more and more attracted to the blood and the darkness it stained since meeting Nigel.  It scared him.   Not because his mind had begun to turn toward the shadows that he hunted but that he could recognized the darkness that had always been there within himself, Nigel had woken something up that Will desperately needed to keep dormant.    
  
Then again, if looking could stop him from killing, from wanting to see his hands painted in blood, should he deny the next fix?  "Yeah, you’re right.  After this I’ll take a break…”  And have a real conversation with Hannibal about what he was feeling.  “Listen, I have to go to the office,” Tell the Chestor everything he could, “I'll be back as soon as I can."   He promised, emotions warning as he stole a kiss.   Alex, Nigel, bodies hanging in the wind…he wasn’t okay, still wasn’t okay and still had to work.  But at least with Hannibal he was doing that much better.  
  
"I'm sorry I can’t stay longer."  Hannibal apologised, smoothing back curls to appreciate blue grey eyes.  He could see Will needed the support and knew that now if he left the pining would begin, no more worry of Nigel drawing Will’s mind away.  "I wish I could stay longer."  Anther kiss, soft and forgiving, "I will see you when you return.  But until then, where will you be staying?”  He smoothed his thumb along Will’s stubbled jaw, “Your apartment is no longer safe."  
  
That thought seemed to set Will back for a moment, the profiler sighing as he came to terms with something that had to be handled.  "I was supposed to stay with Nigel."  He admitted, forgoing the part where his brother shot a man.  "But in light of new developments,” he thread his fingers through Hannibal’s and squeezed, feeling the dance of something new and exciting in his stomach at the gestures return, “I'll get a room at a cheap hotel."  Tell Nigel their fling was over.  
  
He’d fucked up with the video.  
  
"Thank you."  Hannibal smiled broader, relief visible in the pull of lips that reached his eyes in a way Will had never seen on the doctor’s stoic face before.      
  
"Do you think you’ll still be here when I get back from the precinct?"  
  
"I’m unsure,” he admitted, “my departing flight is at four in the morning."  
  
Will instantly felt divided, he'd wasted enough time sleeping with the man, time that should have spent saving lives.    
  
He wanted to waste more.  
  
"I'm sorry I can't stay longer.  I've lost more time than I can afford already."  He looked at the bed, the wrinkled fabric and damp mark in its middle stained by lube.  "No regrets."  He’d needed it.  
  
"Do not concern yourself with me.”  Hannibal reassured, “I'm grateful for the time you could spare.  I wasn't sure I would get the chance to see you before departure."  Not true, he would have skipped his flight and bought another ticket to make the night happen, to make Will his.  
  
"Thank you."  He wouldn't be able to say it enough.  Not for the time he had spent crawling into Will’s life and not for the forgiveness he had been gifted.  
  
The sound of his cell phone buzzing across the floor where it had fallen in his rush caught Will's attention, drawing his mind back to the present.  He grabbed the phone, quirking a brow at the unknown number blinking across the screen and answered.  "Will Graham."  
  
"Domnul Graham, I am officer Boroi."  He furrowed his brow at the sound of urgency in her voice.  "There has been another killing and I can't reach Alexnadru."  
   
OoOoO  
  
TBC  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading ~<3
> 
> Your kudos are flipping tables in rage, your comments are trying to keeping them at bay witha tie whip.
> 
> The author calmly reminds all that the story is not over yet.


	18. Devils Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrest is made and goodbyes are said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it. The last chapter. I'm somewhere between sad and really excited to get this up, terrified of all your reactions to the ending...I don't think it's what anyone is expecting but I hope you'll enjoy it anyway.
> 
> Before I began writing this story nearly a year ago I wrote the last paragraph. This entire story has all been planned and written as ground work for the sequel, I can't believe it's over.
> 
> It has been an absolute pleasure sharing this story with all of you. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Thank you for finishing this with me~<3 <3 <3
> 
> This will be published, but for now I own nothing.
> 
> Not beta read.

‘ _Work called, new body, talk to you later._ ’  He read the message twice before pressing send, powering off his phone even as the screen lit with an incoming call.  He and Nigel needed to have a conversation, a long one, and it wasn’t something he was prepared to do over the phone.  Not after everything he had done for him.  Things needed to end between them, but Nigel deserved that conversation in person.  
  
Preferably someplace very public, Will touched his throat, fingers sliding beneath the collar of his shirt to trace a fading bruise.  Nigel was possessive; he was dangerous and Will never should have stayed the first night.  He wouldn’t be letting him go so easily.  
  
He hoped he could keep busy until he had to leave.  Sleep in the office or not sleep at all.  The sooner he wrapped up this case the sooner he could get his ass back home and away from Bucharest.  
  
His cab pulled a stop by the curb and Will tipped the driver before climbing out, files and map in hand.  He’d taken them with him, awkwardly searching out the newest location on his map in the car to circle in marker.  He’d been right in his guess of a perimeter, it wasn’t a circle, more of an acute triangle but the bodies had definitely been left to mark out an edge.  
  
"They’re encroaching on his territory."  Will told himself, spotting the Chestor in the crowd of officers.  He jogged up to meet him, file in hand.  "I figured it out."  
  
He was met with scorn, "Where's Alexandru?" He demanded.  
  
"What?"  Will stopped, suddenly aware of the officers that moved to around him, hands on their guns.  
  
"Alexandru, your partner,” He spat, “the man you killed.  Where is he?"  
  
"The man I-" He didn’t fight as he was grabbed papers falling to scatter the ground as his arms were brought behind his back, "I didn't kill Alexandru."  
  
"I received a phone call saying otherwise, an eye witness to the gun fight.  You and a man named Nigel Lecter."  Cold steel snapped around the profiler’s wrists, pressing tight enough to pinch.  
  
"I was there-"  
  
"At least you’re not trying to deny it.  Why didn't you call the police?"  
  
"I was busy running for my life, the office number isn’t in my phone, I only had Alexandru’s and he was dead!"  
  
The Chestor wasn’t convinced; eyes narrowed as he looked at the killer his friend had thought to recommend to him with disgust.  "We have the weapon Graham, a gun with your finger prints on it."  
  
Fingerprints he had left on the handle when bluffing.  He wondered how smeared those prints were with Iosif’s, if the Chestor was bluffing.  
  
"I didn’t kill Alex,” He pressed, “Alex killed himself."  
  
"Where's the body?"  
  
“I don’t know.  I didn’t kill him.”  
  
"We have the weapon, the fingerprints, the bullets, the blood; what we don't have is his body.  Where is Alexandru?  What have you done with his body?"  
  
Everything was falling apart.  
  
"I didn't-"    
  
"Take him in; I'll be there as soon as I finish with this."  
  
OoOoO  
  
Will sat in the eerie quiet of a dimly lit questioning room, ink residue dry on his fingers and hands bound in cool steel cuffs bolted to the table surface.  No clock and no window he had no idea how long he’d been kept waiting and he didn’t care.  He was numb.  Overwhelmed past the point of fear and anxiety, what he felt now was the calm that came with acceptance.  He would die in prison.  The conditions, he’d been told by an officer keeping watch on him during his stay in the holding cell, worse than anything he could have endured back home.  There was still a court case for him to look forward to if he couldn’t prove he was being set up, questioning to endure.  He was being framed for murder and the sentence would see him locked away for twenty years.  The overnight stay had been meant to scare him into cutting a deal and coming clean with the truth today.  They were going to be sorely disappointed with his story.  
  
"Good Morning Domnul Graham,” an officer greeted entering the interrogation room, he was shorter than Will, broad in the shoulders with a round face and thinning hair, “I’m officer Cuţov, I’ll be deducting your interview today.  Are you ready?"  
  
“Yes.”  He kept his eyes down, examining the way metal pinched around his wrists.  They were on too tight and bit into the skin when he made a fist.  
  
“You look tired this morning.  Was it difficult to sleep on your cot?”  
  
He kept his tone flat, “One of your officers kept me company last night.  I didn’t get much sleep.”  He hadn’t bothered trying, instead sitting on the beneath to feel the ache still seated deep inside ground him as he was told of the overcrowded penitentiaries, with bunks stacked as high as four bunks  and filled with as many as three men to a mattress on filthy lice riddled sheets.  It had given him a lot to think about.  Consider what story he wanted to tell and who he was willing to throw under the bus.  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that.”  He didn’t care, neither did Will, he’d sleep on the floor.  “I would like you to tell me what happened yesterday.”  
  
"I didn't kill Alex.”  
  
“That is the topic up for debate.”  He steepled his fingers, “Can you explain to me what you were doing with an armed gun in Ouroboros?”    
  
He considered the question, he could save Alex’s good name or he could bury him.  Only one of them was going to prison.  “I was attacked on the street. Called Alex, he picked me up.  I told him I found the tape Iosif Nechita was using to blackmail him.  He demanded I give him the tape, I said it was evidence.  He took me to Ouroboros.  There was a gun fight and Alex shot himself.”  He finally looked up, focus making it as far as the interrogators mouth, he had a scar on his lip, old, possibly from biting through it as a child falling on his face.  “I'm being set up."  
  
"I could say that I believe you, but I'm afraid that isn't going to change the evidence against you."  He placed a folder on the table between them, turning the manila file to face the profiler as he opened it to reveal a photo of Alex.  He was smiling, dressed down in ratty jeans and an old shirt next to a barbeque, a young girl running by in the background with a bright pink bubble wand in her hand.  The image of a family man who would never smile or flip burgers again.  He supposed it was meant to make him feel guilty.  It worked.  He still wished he could have saved him, even if he’d threatened to blow out his knees.  "You shot this man."  
  
"I didn't."  
  
“Would you be willing to say that while attached to a polygraph?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Fifteen minutes later he was; a clip on his finger, band on his arm and straps across his stomach and chest, the machine at the officer’s side.  Will never cared for polygraph testing, an inaccurate science that couldn’t be trusted during interviews for anything conclusive.  Both honest and dishonest able to pass and fail the test thanks to nerves and adrenalin, which made it a test he could cheat.    
  
The test began and Will thought of Garrett Jacob Hobbs, recalling the arterial blood spray painting the kitchen floor they ran through the irrelevant questions meant to form a baseline.  Name, age, favorite color, date of birth, home address; each answer accompanied by the mental image of a bullet sinking into meat, Garrett’s body jerking with each blow to pierce his chest, keeping Will’s heart rate elevated.    
  
Next were the control questions, questions to make him feel uncomfortable, possibly lie, things everyone had done and no one wanted to admit.  Had he ever cheated on a test?  Shop lifted?  Lied to avoid penalties?  Cheated on a loved one?  Each question answered with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and accompanied by the memory of a girl gasping as she bleed out on a linoleum floor.    
  
The next were relevant questions, those meant to bury him.  “Did you shoot Alexandru Vasilescu?”  
  
See?  A dying man whispered, “No.”  
  
“How did he die?”  
  
Warm blood slick beneath his fumbling, clumsy hands, unable to grip a teenage girl’s throat and save her; “Alex shot himself.  He used his own firearm, pushed it into his mouth and pulled the trigger.”  
  
“What about Nigel Lecter.”  
  
His little boat in the dark, grass cool around his ankles out in the field staring back at his house all lit up, “I don’t know anyone named Nigel.”  If Will was going to prison, he wouldn’t see Nigel dragged there with him.  
  
“Our witness said you were with another man.”  
  
He thought of Winston licking his face and Buster dragging sticks bigger than his body to drop at Will’s feet, “I don’t know anyone by the name Nigel Lecter, I left Ouroboros alone.”  
  
"We found a gun with your prints on it.  Can you tell me what you were doing in possession of a fire arm?"  
  
He thought of his pack, the family of strays he missed playing in the field behind his house, frolicking in the tall grass and rolling in mud.  “I stole it from the guys who attacked me.”  
  
"I see.  Why didn’t you contact the police upon your attack?"  
  
"I called my partner,” he thought of a teenage girl mounted on a stag head, “I don’t have the office number in my phone, just Alex, I called him and he picked me up."  
  
"You told Alexandru about the attack and the gun?"  
  
Warm sun and a taught line, "I did, not that he can confirm my story."  
  
"No, I suppose not.  Not now that you've killed him."  
  
Glasgow smiles, "He shot himself."  
  
"Did he?"  
  
The Ripper and his sounder, "Yes, he killed himself because he couldn't live with himself.  He was working for a man named Iosif Nechita.  Nechita owns and operates a strip club called Ouroboros.  I believe he’s using it to launder drug money.  He's also the one responsible for the suicide murders."  
  
"How did you learn about this?"  
  
"Alex admitted to me he was being blackmailed into pickups and drop-offs.  There's a tape of him under the effect of burundanga.  Six years ago he and a woman entered a back room in Ouroboros, she gave him a blow job and he shot her.  If you pay attention to the video he looks up as if listening to someone by the door right before he pulls out a gun."  
  
"You honestly want me to believe that Alexandru Vasilescu would murder someone in cold blood?  Cheat on his wife?  He oozed loyalty and dedication from his pores."  
  
"He was under the effects of burundanga."  
  
His interrogator leaned back, "You’ve seen this tape?"  
  
"I have and I can get it for you."    
  
"Where is it?"  
  
"I'll need to make a call for that."  
  
“You don’t have the luxury Domnul Graham.”  
  
“I don’t know where it’s been moved, but if you give me a phone I know someone who does.”  
  
OoOoO  
  
“The fuck do you want?”  A tired voice growled into the phone, Will was relieved he’d answered the unknown number.  
  
“It’s Will,” He tried to keep his mind focused, control his heart rate.  He was still attached to the machine, one the phone with Nigel, an officer recording the call, another watching the polygraph.”  
  
"All of my calls have been going to voice mail. I thought you’d been fucking grabbed.  Where the fuck are you?  I've been turning this city upside down looking for you."  
  
A wave of guilt bit into him.  He could hear the worry, heart wrenching concern he’d wasted on Will.  He might have fucked things up with the video, but his feelings for him were as real as the metal wrapped tight against his wrists.  Nigel hadn’t been lying to get laid, he sounded as if he hadn’t slept since their separation…He almost hung up the phone.  He didn’t want to use him.  "Sven, remember that tape I asked you to hide?”  Nigel was smarter than he looked; he’d either read between the lines or bury them both. “I need it back.”  
  
“Why?”  Smart, the less he said the better.  He knew the line was bugged.  
  
“I’m in prison Sven, the tape backs my story.”  
  
"What happens if I lost it?"  If he destroyed it?  
  
"Then I’m going to have to make better friends with my cell mates."  
  
"Which station?”  
  
“I’m in the precinct on Stelea Spataru.”  
  
“It'll be there in twenty."  He killed the call and Will hung up the phone, looking to the man seated across from him as the phone was gathered by another and taken away.    
  
"Twenty minutes."  
  
"I heard.  I’ve also been looking over your polygraph.”  He gave Will a steady look, almost warning, “Is there anything else you'd like to add to your story before we disconnect?"  It was a scare tactic, meant to intimidate the interrogatee into believing their test had failed and confession time was now or never.  Will hoped his passed.  Avoidance methods didn’t always work.    
  
"Nothing in my defense.”  
  
“But you have something to add?”  
  
“There’s more regarding the case.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“The murders are dictating territory, or in this case stolen territory.  Iosif is taking his competitors sales area and marking the perimeter with his men’s corpses to keep him in the newly designated area.  The bodies have always faced to the north until the one before last.  It faced the west, nearly four blocks up and three over from the north string, now the most recent body faces south.” He’d caught a glimpse before he was stuffed into a car, “Look for a building that's either in the center or tall enough that it would be seen by the lower standing units where bodies were found.  It should give you at least one of your drug lords.”  
  
"Yes, we’ve been looking into that.  One of our officers combed through your files.  Lots of notes, was there any particular reason you haven't felt the need to share your discoveries with the rest of the precinct?"  
  
"I had a private meeting with Chestor Morar yesterday.  The rest of the intelligence I'd been discussing with my partner.  Alex was supposed to be relaying, he covered the language barrier I couldn't breach.  If he was keeping anything to himself I had no way of knowing about it."  
  
"You're pinning this on your partner?"  
  
"Alex was being blackmailed.  I blame Iosif,” And Nigel.  
  
"When you had your meeting with Chestor Morar did you tell him about the tape?"  
  
"No, I was hoping to get some answers from Alex before throwing him under the bus."  
  
"And did you?"  
  
"When I refused to give him the tape he took me to Ouroboros where I was nearly killed."  
  
"How did you get away?"  
  
"One of his Iosif’s guys turned on him.  I don’t know why, but he shot him, Alex realized that there was no coming back from this and took his own life.  I ran like a bat out of hell."  
  
"You were still carrying a loaded, concealed firearm."  
  
"I was carrying a firearm I had stolen from a man trying to kill me.  It was concealed but it wasn't loaded."  
  
"We found it loaded."  
  
"I'm being framed.  I already said that."  
  
"We'll see."  
  
OoOoO  
  
Without a window or clock there was no way of telling how long he sat isolated in the dim interrogation room.  However long it was, he knew he was still being watched.  Someone would be sitting in a little room with a screen waiting for any signs of nervous behaviour to aid the polygraph.  Will wasn’t going to give them any.  Despite the growing ache in his lower back from sitting still for an undetermined number of hours, he let his eyes un-focus and his mind drift away to the rushing streams of Wolf Trap.  
  
The sound of the interrogation room door unlocking some time later nearly started Will as he was pulled from his daydream back to the small dark room.  “What’s been decided?”  He asked the approaching officer.  
  
“You’re being released.”  The officer answered, removing Will’s cuffs.  
  
Rubbing the flesh of his aching wrists he rose to follow the officer out of the dim little room and down the hall back into the heart of the station, opening the door to a better lit side office with his few personal effects waiting for him on a desk.  “Chestor Morar would like to see you before you go."  The officer informed Will as he pocketed his phone, keys and the little cash he’d come with.    
  
He’d expected the tape to aid in lowering his sentence or helping the inevitable court case, he hadn’t expected release.  “The charges are being dropped?"  
  
His blood ran cold when the man smiled, opening his mouth and lifting his tongue to reveal the curl of a snake biting its tail scared under his tongue.  
  
Nigel’s reach was farther than Will ever could have imagined, the claws he’d had in Alex only the tip of the iceberg.  He was in deeper than he’d thought.  "We found your gun license.”  He explained, Will suddenly very aware of how his body blocked the door, “It was nearly expired, a few days off, the charges against you have been dropped.”  He reassured, “You must have forgotten about it."  
  
“Right,” he went for the door, stepping around the man who made the hairs on his arms stand on end.  He wanted out of that room, out of this country.  
  
A hand grabbed him before he could make it through the door, the officer leaning close to whisper poison in his ear, "He'd not dead.”  He warned, breath moist against his skin, “Domnul Nechita made it out alive.  The family’s dividing:  those who will follow Nechita and those who will follow Nigel."  
  
Every hair stood on end, "Which are you?"  
  
He smiled releasing Will’s arm.    
  
"Run."  
  
He didn’t run, but he wanted to, finding his way to the Chestor’s office with a deliberate pace.  Fear would only feed the fire, encourage the chase.  He wanted them to forget about him.  Reaching the Chestor’s door he paused, glancing to the empty chair a cheerful man had once waited for him in.  His death might now have been his fault, but he still felt like shit about it.  Pushing memories of the past to the side he knocked.  "Come in!"  
  
"You wanted to see me?"  He entered the room, heart racing as his mind tried to keep up with the information that had been heaped on him.    
  
"Sit down."  The man ordered, there were several files on his desk, a slanted pile that had been flipped through and pushed to the side for later, Will’s name on one of them.  The man himself stood at his window, back to Will as the profiler took a seat.  "I don't know what you pulled, or how you did it.  But that license is a fake.”  He glared over his shoulder, sharp eyes watching Will as though trying to read his mind through his skull.  “I know it and you know it.  I want to know how you did it."  
  
"I have no idea.  I'm still trying to make sense of it myself."  
  
"But you'll claim the license in court, won’t you?"  
  
If it kept him out of Romanian prison, "I'm far less interested in the gun license and far more interested in knowing what happened with the case."  
  
"The case is no longer your concern."  
  
"I just want to know if anything I nearly died trying to find out yielded anything for this case.”  Will snapped.  
  
"You don't get to yell at me!"  Morar bellowed, turning on him in an instant.  He was working to intimidate Will and it wasn’t working, he’d had endured a gun to his skull twice already that week.  A man screaming at him was nothing in comparison.  
  
"If it didn't do anything than why am I being released?  You were charging me with murder and possession of a concealed fire arm without a license; you were ready to lock me up for life.  What fucking changed?"  
  
"Someone has your back."  He seethed.  "Someone couriered Alex’s gun to the office,” he looked at Will as though he was shit on his boot, “Along with his body."  
  
“Someone couriered his body?”  He didn’t want to think of the officer stuffed into a box, but his gifted mind painted the image for him just the same, glassy eyes and blood streaked face.  
  
“It’s not your concern.”  
  
"What about the tape?"  
  
"I reviewed it myself.   Someone was giving him orders.  GCMS on the previous victim and the latest one show traces of burundanga in their systems.  They’ve all been drugged.  I read your notes, found a church tower just off center from the circle on the map.  We found nearly two tons of cocaine hidden in its basement.  More than double that at Ouroboros."  
  
Which was great for the case, but it didn’t explain his release, "How this cleared my name?"  
  
"Another anonymous package," He said, eyes narrowed.  "The face and body of one man was blurred, the tape cut short, but I have the footage of you held at gunpoint on hands and knees and Alex shooting himself.  Someone is protecting you Will.  I want to know who."  
  
"I already said during the polygraph test that someone turned.  I don’t know who."  
  
"Polygraph tests lie.  You know who shot those men.  I have every right to keep you on the charge of withholding evidence."  
  
"And whoever is doing this will play something into the system to get me out.  I don't know how, I don't know who, but I'll take it."  He would be damned if he was going to die in a Romanian prison.  
  
"I'll see your career burned for this.  You'll never work in law again."  
  
"I solved your case, but if you want to take Jack's top profiler away from him after he sent me up to Bucharest on his dime, at your request, go for it."  
  
He scowled, "We found traces of burundanga pills in Nechita's desk, but we didn't find Nechita.  Both Iosif Nechita and Marku Ungur are missing.  We have police combing the city for them.  Two drug lords and one serial killer."  He said stepping behind his desk to take a seat at last.  "I'll see the rest of this case to finish myself.  I won't say a word to Jack or the media about your involvement or how any of its proceedings, that’s a favor I'm doing for Jack.  My letting you walk is payment enough for the shit you've dragged my precinct through."  He pointed to the door with one thick finger, the tip yellowed from too many years smoking tobacco.  "But I never want to see you in Bucharest again."  
  
He pushed out of his chair without a word and walked toward the door, he'd never felt so empty after a case.  
  
"Wait."  Will paused, hand on the door.  He didn't look back, he didn't want to see the man,he just wanted to leave.  "A fax came for you from Jack while you were being interrogated, a case for the Ripper.  He wants you back on the next flight out."  
  
He looked back, watching as a folder was slid across the polished desk, he could feel the man’s eyes boring into him as he picked up the manila folder, refusing to look at him as he opened the file to the first page and left the office.  
  
The picture that greeted him was beyond gruesome.  
  
The Ripper had been busy, thick ropes of intestines strung like a string game between the branches of six trees.  Each branch a finger for the lengths of intestine stretched between them in a disturbing game of cat’s cradle.  A message scrawled out in the interact weaving of the web just for him.  
  
A personal summon.  
  
Graham.  
  
The Ripper wanted him home.  
  
OoOoO  
  
He had to speak with Nigel, it was now or never and then he needed to catch a plane and go the fuck home.  Back to his dogs and house and bottle of cheap, throat burning whiskey.  
  
But he needed to speak with Nigel first.  He'd done...too much for him.  More than he should have and Will more than owed the man.  It was enough to have him forgiving the video and almost regretting his night with the doctor.  
  
Stepping out of the station Will found he didn't have to worry about trying to find Nigel, the bad man raising a hand in greeting from where he waited leaning against his car across the street.    
  
"How long have you been here?"  He asked watching for traffic as he crossed to the man who'd freed him.  
  
"About an hour."  He grinned, flicking the butt of his cigarette to roll out into the street.  He reached for Will, fingers skimming his waist as  pulled back.  "What's the matter darling?"  He wasn't impressed.  "I just busted my balls getting your sweet ass out of jail.  I think I deserve a little reward."  
  
"You deserve more than a little reward," and he honestly wasn't sure if he meant jail time or sex.  "But I can't give that to you.  Before I was arrested I was supposed to meet you, break things off." Deep maroon narrowed, a dangerous spark shining in their depths, "Hannibal was at my apartment when I got there.  We've decided to date, officially.  I can't keep seeing you."  
  
"Though I appreciate your sense of fucking loyalty, I wish it were directed at me."  
  
"I'm sorry that it isn't...especially after all of this, everything, you; I don't know how to thank you."  
  
"Don’t go."  He filled in the answer for him.  "Stay with me and be mine.  You'll never have to work again.  No more bloody bodies to look at, no more pushy piss-faced officers; just you and me."  
  
"No bodies?  How many bodies are you going to bury to keep me from having to work?  You told me before that the people you killed for a living were the ones others weren’t going to miss.  People miss Alex.”  
  
“I didn't kill Alex."

"No, you popped three other guys and he killed himself."

What if I stop?”  
  
Will almost laughed, "It’s not in you to stop.”  
  
“You’d be surprised what I can give up if it means keeping you.”  he almost wanted to believe him, “Besides, you still owe me a week.”  
  
A week he had to renege, “I've been called back for a case.  One I've been working on for years.  My team needs me. "  
  
"And Hannibal."  
  
"And Hannibal, yeah, I'm sorry.  I didn't ask you for all of this, I appreciate it, I'll always remember it, but I didn't ask for it Nigel."  
  
"No,” he jeered, “ you just asked my brother for a better fuck."  
  
"I won't say our time together meant nothing if that's what you're getting at.  It meant something to me.  A lot to me, frankly if you hadn’t sent him the video of us fucking in the shower I was going to stay.  You made me feel good and that's something I haven't felt in a long time.  But I've had feelings for Hannibal for a while now, I think.  And you, you're not good for me.  You're dangerous.  Chaos in its rawest form wrapped in a person suit."  
  
"Hanni told you about the video?  The fucking video?”  He looked ready to break something, “You won't stay?  You won't let me come?  Because of the fucking video?"  He slipped his hands into his pockets, keep his clenching fingers still.  "I love you Will.  I've fallen into a deep and terrible love with you and I don’t want to let you go."  
  
"I'm sorry it can't work Nigel.  If you want we can keep in touch, be friends… If you don't, I'm sorry.  I have to catch a plane."  
  
"I'm sorry too."  He didn’t see it coming, the hand Nigel pulled from his pocket opening to reveal a fist full of white, Will's eyes widened as a cloud of powder was blown into his face.  
  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your kudos are gobsmacked, your comments are flipping tables and the author is writing the sequal.
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading~<3
> 
> Your comments encourage me to write more, your kudo's are appreciated. C:


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